Bottom Feeders
by livengoo
Summary: Every week we see adventures in Atlantis from the top down. And it's a good thing too, cause otherwise we'd be stuck with guys like these . . . the Bottom Feeders!rnrnRating changed to T - Honestly, no words here that I haven't heard from more than a few
1. 1 and 2: Rocks and Sticks

Every week we see adventures in Atlantis from the top down. And it's a good thing too, because otherwise we'd be stuck with guys like these . . the Bottom Feeders!

By Goo and Rank-and-Filed

* * *

From: Gearoid  
To: Maggot  
Subject: Whathefuhhh?

Holy crap, Maggot. I dunno what Atlantis looks like up your way but down here I see a shitpotful of paperwork. And I dunno what you even call half this stuff. I mean, what form do I USE to inventory damn alien microwave ovens. Are they alien microwave ovens? Please christ tell me they're not, like, Star Trek food copiers cause if they're food copiers my life is a goddamn nightmare and I am NEVER gonna get the inventory right. I am gonna have nightmares of that Physics puke comin' in here and copying his coffee stash. Didja ever see that Disney flick with the Mouse mopping the floor and all the mops? I just nearly crapped thinking of marching PowerBars taking over the city.

That Weir broad keeps asking for stuff too. Wants to know what rooms are for. She tells us, "I don't need all the contents, just a general idea . . ." Like I could find a general idea if it bit me in the ass. Fuck if I can even figure out what these places are FOR. We thought the damn kitchen was maybe for ice hockey till Major Hairboy showed his pretty face. Damn, but I was looking for the Zamboni. Coulda had me some fun body- checking Hutzler up on what I figure now's, like, a giant frigidaire. Room was cold as shit and bright as hell and then in walks MHB and alluva sudden there's stuff dropping down and rising up and flipping outta the walls and this scrawny little geek claps his hands and says "Iss Kitchen!" like Santa left him a supermodel under the tree. Mannn, those guys need to get laid. Least the little guy's not an asshole like the one you got stuck with. Jesus Christ what a primodonna.

Did they stick ya in the lab? You a lab rat now, washing bottles and shit? Or they putting you on some other shit detail? Me, I got crap-all tunnel in my future.

Gearoid.

* * *

From: Melvin

To: Gearhead

Subject: rocks

Jesus, you think you have it bad? They wanted me to paint the rocks yesterday. Paint the fucking rocks! Who the hell paints rocks? And why? We're in a subteranean city, for cryin' out loud! And the best they could come up with was for me to paint the rocks. I have got to get another job! And the paperwork! If I see another DA form 159-87 I'm going to puke. Whoever heard of a form to request more forms? At least you got someplace interesting to work. Around here, all I get to do is wash the bottles, pour the bottles, clean up the mess the nice scientist made when she spilled the bottle. I can't wait to get some rank on my collar so that I can get some other poor schmuck to do this shit. There is one cool doohicky around here, though, and I don't even have to write it up! It makes a weird noise anytime anyone walks past, and cool little lights flash when you get too close to it. Kind of afraid to venture too near, lest it reach out and suck out my brains or something, but its fun to watch the butter bars jump every time they walk past it. Not much else going on. I think they are wanting me to move those nice painted rocks I did yesterday to someplace else. Who knows? I'll talk at you later.

Melvin.

* * *

From: Gearoid  
To: Maggot  
Subject: Butterbars of the deep

Crap. Rocks? What the fuck? Listen Maggot, they got me watering plants. I gotta say, at least I got the butterbar with the tits! The florist or whatever the hell they call it told me to water the plants. The dead ones. The creepy dead ones. Do NOT ask me what she expects 'em to do.

Uhhh, Mags, where are you gonna GET the forms? I think Margie lost 'em on the way through. I saw her crawling over the boxes and shit and cursing cause some of 'em were missing. Come to think of it, that's pretty damn good. I wonder what Sumner'll say when we run out of forms. Hell, he'll probably just shit some out of his ass.

And I gotta correct ya here Maggot. We're in a sub-SEA city. Hey, I listened when the Weir chick briefed us. I figure I'll make sergeant any day at this rate.

Least I will if Lt. Shit for Brains doesn't get me killed. Herkimer's got a betting pool for how long it takes him to get somebody fragged and he's got a damn point spread for severity of injury. Shit. That boy's not RIGHT. Course he's got Ell Tee SFBee pegged. The LT dragged us all over the place yesterday and believe me, I can tell you every single question he got right on the SAT now. Asshole. All he can talk about is how he'd a been at Yale if it weren't for how they discriminate against rich white boys. Fucker.

But man, lemme tell ya. When he got himself locked in a crapper I nearly lost it. Took us an hour to figure out how to open the door. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it. I swear he nearly shit himself. He was in there going on and on about how we were to tell his folks he'd died 'serving my country'. We got the door open and took a look and he's sitting on the shitter looking like it's a foxhole. Jesus Christ I nearly lost it. Herkimer got pictures. I'd give my left nut for a copy of that.

Gearoid

* * *

From: Maggot  
To: Gearhead  
Subject: Re: Butterbars of the deep. 

A shithouse? Well, what do you know! An LT who finally found the right place to be at the right time. Who'd'a thunk it? You mean they have you watering those creepy dead things that look like those pods from Aliens? The ones I mentioned might reach out and grab you if you turn your back? Ick! And what do you mean you'll make Sgt? The only reason you listened to that breif was because her tits bounced every time she made a point. I remember you telling me it was 29 bounces! But ok, ok, I cencede. We're a sub-SEA city. Which makes me have to ask - if we're all the way out here in the middle of BFE, how the hell are we going to hide the bodies? I mean, the way things are going, these LTs are about 10 seconds away from finding a grenade on their pillow or something. Not only did they have me moving rocks yesterday - moving fucking rocks! - but that creepy scientist, you know the one, dropped me! What the fuck? All because I told him his latest toy smelled like my old basic boots. 70 pushups later, and I am really starting to hate this place. Anyway, got to go. The petri dish is calling, and hoyty toyty is going to have a fit if I'm not there to help discover a new use for foot rot. Go figure. Take it easy, and don't turn your back on those damn plants! I'm telling you, one day they'll open up and a face hugger is going to be doing the mamba on your face. Oh, and send me a picture of the shit house incident!

Maggot.


	2. 3 Alien Spam

From: Gearoid

To: Maggot

Subject: A stick up my butt and alien spam

Holy CRAP but I think I got a big fuckin' stick up my ass! I was watering those fuckers and I felt this thing grope me like I groped my first girlfriend, 'cept I don't got the slot to take a lot. I swear to god that sucker tried to crawl up there and set up housekeeping! Dr. TNA says I'm imagining it but I didn't see things like that on pot, let alone watering plants. Course, probly didn't help that I was watching the bazoongas bouncing at the time. You thought I could count high with 29? Lemme tell ya, this babe got an easy 80 double dribbles that had me drooling like no tomorrow. The LT says I backed into that fuckin' plant trying to get a better look but I know the truth. Those plants are pervs. Ancient pervert plants.

I'm trying to get you those pics of LT SFB but Herkimer's holding us up for 'em. I swear he wants blow jobs fore he'll let you get a copy. Speaking of blow jobs, did you get spammed too? I swear to god, what the hell do you need to do to stop those fuckers? I logged on and found fifty mails selling me Pegasus Penis Preps, not that I need anything to make this beefy burrito any bigger than it is. The babes like it just the way it is.

And maybe the LT isn't so damn bad after all. I heard the Big Broad, you know, She Who Must Be Obeyed told Ford she hopes he finds some pretty smelling flowers out there, him and old Stick-up-his-Ass. I figure SUHA is gonna be sending HairBoy out looking for perfume for Her Highness to keep him busy. Damn, never thought I'd feel sorry for one a them but the guy's got funny lookin' hair AND an officer on his ass. Least I got good hair.

What IS it with these people and hair anyway? You got HairBoy, and Stick-Man looks like a lawnmower ran over his head, then there's that asshole you work for. Thank god that shithead McKay's still got his hair. I can see him screaming for alien Rogaine now. That'd blow. That'd seriously blow.

Hey, that alien chick started coming down here to talk to Dr. TNA. I think she's checking me out. Looking for some tang for her alien poon . . . I think I caught her eyeing my ass the other day. Maybe I'll go wear skins and boogie where the wild things are.

Boob tube, test tube, you're just all tied UP in tubes, yeah?

Gearoid.

Original Message

From: Melvin

To: Gearhead

Subject: Re: sticks and spam

First off, you got groped by a plant? Excuse me as I go to laugh my ass off! Second, I think the only reason that alien was checking you out was because you might have something growing back there that don't belong. You might want to let doctor TNA have a look, if you know what I mean. Besides, if you have alien pervo plants trying to get lucky wih you, the least she can do is give you a full checkout. Er, check up. Speaking of which, you're not the only one getting those dame adds. But I had one yesterday for sexy, big built men! I'm not fucking gay! And even if I were, which I'm not, I wouldn't tell you anyway. But it was just the one. I think when I ordered that gag blow up doll for the Colonel it tagged me as a grade A pervert. Maybe we should send he sight to one of your pants. Or better yet, send a picture of your big old burrito. I mean, the poor girls have to get a laugh some how, right? 80 ping pongs? Holy shit! Why the hell am I stuck down here with Freakazoid, while you get the babe with built in life preservers? Set her adrift, and she'll float home! Ahh, damn, the LT is here. I have to get back to sucking ass and blowing tubes. I hope your day gets better, because mine sure as hell isn't. And if another of those creepy vines tries to get to fourth base with you, make sure it buys you a drink first. We do have our standards. And keep trying to get me those pictures!

Maggot


	3. 4 Pervo plants

A/N: I hear some folks want a Bottom Feeder dictionary! I understand that if you go look for Private Murphy's Law not only will most questions be answered, but you'll have a lot of fun doing research too.

* * *

From: Gearhead: 

To: Maggot

Subject: Spam from hell

Ninety-nine emails of dicks in my mail, ninety-nine emails of dicks . . . Jesus, Mary, Joseph and their little dog too do I got a loada crap in my email. And it ain't like I NEED alien Viagra! I'm startin' to think maybe the pervy plants ain't so bad. Dr. TNA is looking perkier than ever and the other chicks down here are mighty fine. Hell, even the LT ain't as ugly as usual. Hoo haa! I tell ya my purple pirate a' passion is about ready to set sail on the big ol' booty trail! And damn, Maggot, I nearly fell on my ass when we stopped being' twenny thousannn leeeegues beneaf the seaaa. Ooooh. Dr. Weasel just wandered by. Man, you shoulda seen his ass. He's bounc ing offa da walls like a cop car in Grand Theft Auto. Man nearly took a header off the stairs down here. And the LT, fuck it was funny, you know he's started wearin' his hair like HairBoy? Guy's his hero! LT just raced by buck nekkid with sticks in his hair singing shit about how he's a little teapot and pissin on the plants. Dr. Weasel, that frostback commie asshole, tried to get our plants but we circled the wagons and told his communist plant-snatching ass to get back to Ottawa where he belongs. Shoulda seen his face. Got his mouth all screwed up and his nose all sneery like he does and said he's from Tor-Ron-To, thank you verra much! Shit, I bout laughed my balls off. Cept I need those balls for the ladies. Speakin a which what the fuck am I doin' typing email to your lame pervert doll-shagging ass when I got me a piece a prime botanist butt cruisin' by singing about gettin' some wood in the park. Tell ya how much wood she gets and you'll be green as the damn plants. Heeeee

Gee

* * *

From: Melvin

To: Gearhead

Subject: Re: potatoes and other plants . . .

What the hell is in the water you're drinking down there? Becuase, I tell ya, you're sounding really psycho today. LT running around with sticks in his hair? Pissing on the plants? Ok, time for all little soldiers to be in bed. Like, the infirmary. Besides, think of all the nurses you can make happy, with your, what did you call it? Purple stick of passion? By the way, I dropped a tube today, you would have thought it was the crown jewel by the way His Nibs acted. Didn't care I cut my hand to shreds when it happened, or that the damn blue gue he was investigating burned like hell. Nope. He was screaming about fuck ups and incompetant soldiers. I can only assume he meant me. Oh, well. I figure, if I had any stripes they'd be gone by now anyway. Sorry, just a private! Don't know shit about shit. Anyway, if you do manage to get into someone's pants tonight, let me know. With rosy palm out of commission thanks to my butter fingers, I'm not even getting that to keep Mr. Winky happy. I need info! I want when, where, who, and how many! And if the LTs finally get their heads out of their assess and realize they're the only ones who can stand each other, maybe they'll get some too, and back off the rest of us. Pervo plants and plant pissing officers is about all I can take for tonight. Besides, its a bitch to type one handed, so forgive the typos. I'm gonna go crash. Whatever that shit was, it hurts like hell! Have fun!

Maggot

* * *

Most definitely to be continued! Gotta find out if those plants had to kick back and smoke a cigarette after all . . . 


	4. 5 Hangover from Another Planet

From: Gearoid

To: Maggot

Subject: More What the fuck?

Hoooly crap have I got the headache from hell. And my dick is sore, which is good, and my butt is sore, which is not. Doc Beckett's been eyeing me funny and asking me about kinky shit like whether I put plants up my ass. Don't you laugh! I know you sent me something but I can't see straight yet. Never thought I'd be glad they made me learn to touch type.

I heard that babe from botany (those weirdos from anthro call her Botany Babe. I do NOT wanna ask!). She doesn't sound so hot when she's puking. Course, the up side is the LT is puking too. Me, I woke up on the balcony hopping along and splashing into puddles and the LT was singing "Cause I'm a Woman". I thought I was gonna shit a brick when I looked up to see him naked, swinging his dick around and singing "I can bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan." Course, soon as I figured out what I was seeing I really started to puke, which is truly crappy since I got too sick to get my camera or I'da been sending you candids of LTSFB doing Aretha. Or maybe doing U-rethra, know what I mean? So that's when Colonel Sumner showed up and nearly took the top off my head shouting about how we were a disgrace to the uniform. Course, Herkimer pointed out that we'd a had to be IN our uniforms before we could disgrace 'em, and since we were all buck naked out there that wasn't really an issue. Course then Sandoval says we're the ugliest damn collection of mugs and slugs and butts he's ever seen and we'd all be court martialed for human rights abuses just being out there like that where people could see us. Bout then I couldn't decide if I was gonna laugh myself to death or throw up my toenails. That's when they hauled our asses to med and Doc B's been a happy little vampire since then. He keeps talking about novel hallucinogenics but if I ever saw a novel like that I'd a read the whole library. Man, I never thought I'd be tired of looking at babes but right now I just want to go sleep somewhere that ain't got nurses with needles and carts and shit.

Gearoid

* * *

From: Maggot 

To: Gearhead

Subject: Shoulda coulda . . .

I should say I told you so, but that just doesn't seem to cover it today. And you didn't read my last email, so I guess you can be forgiven. A word of advice for the future, Gearhead? Stay away from the pervo plants, pscyho doctors, and weird dead things. Trust me on this one. In fact, I'll tell ya to your face once you wake up. Did you know that you snore like a wounded donkey? Anyway, it sucks about not getting the pictures, but I'm still waiting on the ones from the shithouse. Just hope that nobody had the same bright idea while you were playing bounce the balls with the upper echelon. Wouldn't want my friend to get black mailed, would I? And, in case you wake up before I do, the reason I'm in the bed next to you is because, well, look at me! People should not be blue! And if you even think of getting out that damn camera... Let me just say this: AIT, second week, Drill Sgt. Bitch Titties. Get the hint? But hey, besides the dark circles under your eyes, the strange bruises which I'm afraid to ask about, and the total lack of clothes, which, let me tell you, is not a good look for you, you look pretty good. We should get together more often. Just, when you don't have the hangover from hell and I'm not blue and tingly. Anyway, I lost feeling in my hand about three sentences ago, so I'm signing off. I'll talk to you when you wake up. And remember, no pictures of the blue man! I'm not part of that comedy group!

Maggot

* * *

A/N Comedy group: Blue Man Group. 

And all you guys who let us know we're endangering your keyboards making you laugh with stuff in your mouth, thank you and some virtual paper towels going out for ya! We LOVE feedback, laughs, and even death threats. I know I used to collect death threats . . . my favorites were the ones involving used lederhosen and polka bands. Shudder!

And yes, TBC . . .


	5. 6 Whoa Whoa WOAD!

From: Gearhead  
To: Maggot  
Subject: Whoa whoa WOAD!

You know you sleep on your gut? I woke up and oh my gawd I think I nearly crapped! Maggot, I'm taping this to your back with that tape the nurses say won't pull off hair but damn, I think it pulled off half the hair on my ass when I needed stitches that time for sitting down on Sgt. BT's entrenching tool. You know, that's sitting down as in that time you and me got wasted in town on leave? I think it was her entrenching tool. Mighta been her abs cause that bitch was CUT. She had a six pack bigger than Arnold's. So anyway, I needed to test the tape thing and that's why you got it on your back spelling out "SHAVE ME!"

But that's beside the point. The point is . . . what the fuck did you do to be feeling soooo blue? I woke up and took a look at you and grabbed Schauer, you know, the nurse that dead lifts down in the gym, cause when I saw you I figured I'd od'd on Viagra and better do something about it fast. Too bad she did something about it to me first. You owe me for that.

I tell ya, Beckett says you got something called Woad. I dunno what that is but it means you're blue. He just shakes his head and talks about savages and Woad. I didn't know you were Irish, man. Hey, you're in good company, you and me should figure out how to brew some good beer and maybe we can get the kitchen pukes to figure out how to do corned beef and cabbage on St. P's day. I hate the shit but I gotta hold up tradition here. I never thought blue was Irish or anything but that's what Beckett says and he'd know, being sorta like that himself.

That botany babe keeps looking at me across the room, Maggot! Oh christ oh christ she just made kissy faces at me! You know, the ones that make 'em look like dead fish but that mean goood things? Damn, I hope the LT doesn't wake up cause he'd just ruin what could be a very, very good . . . crap. Beckett just shot another loada stuff into her IV. I like the guy and all but his timing SUCKS. Course, now that I think about it, the little sergeant and his two privates is still feeling a bit chafed. I dunno what the hell I did . . . hold on. Here comes Doc B.

Oh shit. Oh shit. It's like, hours later and I just got done puking. Again. I am NEVER gonna get laid again. I swear to god I don't think the little guy'll ever recover from what I heard. And you can forget the pics of the LT. I don't want to have to think about the man again after what Beckett says we did. Jesus fucking christ in a muumuu riding a skateboard! I am gonna need therapy. Thank god that Heightmeyer broad came along and I don't think I even wanna look at her tits. I'm swearin' off sex for the rest of my life! Jesus CHRIST! Ewwwww!

Gearoid!

* * *

From: Maggot  
To: Gearhead  
Subject: Re: Whoa whoa WOAD!

Ummm, where to begin? How about...OOOOOWWWWWW! You bastard! It wasn't bad enough you spelled ass with suntan lotion on my chest that last time we went to the beach, but that tape? Well, I'm sure electrolosis is unecessary. I doubt that hair will ever grow back! I think the nurse ripped out roots that haven't even been born yet. Oh, woops, guess you don't want to hear about roots, huh? I can still hear you in the bathroom. Again. Good Gods, man how many times can you puke in an hour anyway?

However, after what skuttlebutt says you did with the LT and, well, some pervo plants, I can't really blame you. I think I'd be puking, too, if I were you. However, you might want to reconsider that little bit about swearing off sex. I just saw the botany babe giving you the eye before you high taled it to the latrine. Even the sound of you hurling doesn't seem to be turning her off. And I have to admit, she's got some tits. And I bet she can think of something to sooth Mr. Macho and tame the vapid beast.

Ahhh, Doc Biro (ain't that European for a pen or something?) just took my recent donation to the blood bank. Apparently, the blue goo had a bad reaction to me. Um, ya think? She can't say when I'm going to turn back to normal, which sucks for me, because honestly, who wants to get it on with a giant smurf? I think we need to look further into the beer and corned beef and cabbage. Actually, skip the food, just give us the beer! I don't know about you, but I need to get drunk. Falling down, face numbing, mind dumbing drunk!

I think I'm gonna get the hell out of here and hide in my room until I stop looking like a Saturday morning cartoon. Sorry, buddy, but you're on your own for now. I'm sure the botany babe will be happy to take care of you. If anyone asks, you have no idea where I am! I'll make it worth your while, I swear. Talk at you later, Gee

Maggot

* * *

A/N: In the research department, we carefully review your Bottom Feeders for accuracy in all but spelling. In the interests of educational internet usage, we happily provide a link to Pvt. Murphy's Law at Enjoy! 

TBC, mwahahahah . . .


	6. 7 Cures and Fears

A/N: Remember, these are professional fiction characters. Do not play with blue goo or amorous dead plants at home. - Goo

* * *

From: Gearhead

To: Maggot

Subject: Miracles do happen!

Hallaluyuhhh my little smurfy buddy! I is CURED! And I'm ahead of the game, too. Apparently the LT is so damn scared I'll complain about indecent advances and all that crap that he's buying me off. The way he talked, I couldn't tell if it was the homo thing or the fraternization thing that had him more tied up in knots. Really hilarious since he STILL can't walk right and I can't remember what he thinks HE remembers. That's fine. I just shuddered delicately when he mentioned it. Let him think up crap on his own. You know the move, the one that Annie Sobel used to use whenever anyone asked her to drive that crappy Jeep she hated so much?

And yeah, I see you snickering over there. You look like a giant case of blue balls from hell. I figure I don't want to be seen talking to something your color so we're doing email and chat for now. I specially don't want to sour the game when the Babelicious One has decided to grow herself some little Private Plants, if you know what I mean. Damn but that woman can lick the paint right off a Stealth Fighter. She's got a mouth you could register as a dangerous weapon and you know how I like to live dangerously. Jesus, but I think maybe I'll water plants for a living if it gets my corn shucked like that.

You oughta be thanking me, Maggot. I think I just gave you a way to make a fortune. We can get Nair, see, and rent out your back. You know, like, "Picture your message HERE!" all de-haired off your back. I think Hair Boy himself, the Major, would probably rent space right away. Didja hear about that shit? Hooboy. I mean, I never thought I'd feel sorry for an eagle-ass like Sumner but that's some bad shit that went down. Major'll be easier to work with, that's for sure, but still . . . Catfish vampire babes suckin' your precious bodily fluids does NOT sound like the way I want to go. Hell no! I figure a studly guy like me, I oughta live to a ripe old age and when I'm rich and wrinkly and retired I want to shuffle out riding, if you know what I mean. Yeah, I figure in the saddle and with my boots off is my way!

Jeez but that Sumner thing musta creeped me if I'm thinking about croaking. I mean, you, you're already an unnatural color and if you stay like that the rest of your life it'd be just terrible. Did Beckett say they could try anything? Man, if they do, I hope it doesn't turn ya green or purple or nothing. Though at least if you're green you're Irish colored. Sort of. But a fine specimen in the best years of my life like me . . . well. That ain't right. Though if you get back to normal you'd do fine too. I sure hope they can fix that shit, Maggot. It's just sorta unsettling to keep seeing this smurf outta the corner of my eye like that! Though at least since we're in an alien place we can probably find you some nice blue chick to take pity on ya.

Beckett says he wants to keep me here for another day, says the Botany Babe still is acting li-bit-un-ous or something like that. Hell if I know what he said, he talks that funny Scottish stuff all the time. All I know is haggis and MacBeth and if I coulda skipped twelfth grade it'd just be haggis, tell ya that.

Hey! Quit that! Oh CRAP! Are you starting to ooze over there? Oh jesus you are! I see the stuff dripping off ya! Hold on, Maggot - I'm getting Beckett for ya man

G

* * *

From: Maggot

To: Gearhead

Subject: Last words

Hey, Gee. It's a little hard to type when your diggits are threatening to fall off, but I wanted to tell you a few things. Not to get all seriouse on you, but the doc says that unless they find the answer soon, I'm not gonna last very long. Oozing away and all that.

I see ya pacing out there, and wish to God you were able to come in here. Not to sound too much like a whimp, but I gotta admit, I'm scared, Gee. And this shit, it hurts like hell. Never thought I would see the day my skin started to melt off. Yuck! I thought the way Sumner went was bad, but to melt away... It's like I'm the Wicked Witch of the West, or something. This place, its a lot more dangerous than Bosnia, man. I thought it was gonna be a cush job, but - damn!

Anyway, first off, good luck in the babe department. You really are a good catch, despite what Annette said. Despite the sarcasm, the unholy snoring, and that God aweful mug of yours, you're gonna make some babe a very happy woman.

Second, I don't regret anything. Anything. We've had our good times, and the bad, and you were always there. Hell, if you hadn't talked me into signing up, I never would have had the great things happen to me that I did.

Last, take care of yourself. If they don't get this thing fixed soon, I won't be around to guard your six. So you have to be careful. No more pervo plants and oddball LTs.

Anyway, Gearhead, I'm signing off. I can't feel my fingers no more, and I'm afraid to look too closely at them. Take care, buddy. Hopefully, I'll be talking to you again.

Maggot

* * *

Poor Maggot, sniff. TBC, of course! 


	7. 8 The Slick and the Dead

A/N: When last we saw our heroes, Maggot was oozing slime and Gearhead was not sympathetic. So what else is new? And all you guys who wrote, YESSS! LOVE the email! Rank-and-Filed and I, we are to feedback what cats are to tuna, so get out your can openers, errr, email.

* * *

To: Melvin  
From: Gearoid  
Subject: Slick and the dead

You are so full of shit, Maggot. This is just to get me to buy the beer isn't it? Cause Beckett says you're fine. That the slime is just your body ejecting that blue crap and he's got you in there cause you smell too bad to believe and his nurses got tireda cleaning up the puke.

Look, you get outta here, we'll drink a toast to Sumner. Any excuse to drink is a good excuse to drink. And he was a nasty hardass but he was our nasty hardass, know what I mean? I got the toast all picked an' all. "To Sumner. If he hadn't been a officer he migtha been okay. May he be in a happy place, making eternal jarheads miserable and having a ball.

Yeah. That's a good toast for an officer. You gotta deslime soon buddy cause it's thirsty as hell waiting for ya to get outta the fishbowl. 'sides, you're bad enough face to face, readin' your typin' right now's giving me a headache.

Speakin' a your typin', so what kinda diggits are falling off? Wait, don't tell me. I know. This is cause that nurse told you your dick was falling off after you made a pass at her and got that nasty ooze all over her butt like that? Mannn, I thought even you had better sense than coming on to some chick when you're dripping slime like some big ass slug! That is NOT the kinda slime the girls go for, Mags. I can teach ya if you like. But not till you stop looking all spotty gray and blue like a week old floater. Ewww! You look almost as bad as you smell! Tell you what, next time you need to make that Kavanaugh guy play with his own slimy glue goo.

Oh, you are so damn gross. Do NOT give me the finger! It's just too nasty to see when you've got stuff drippin' off it like that. Yes, that's right. Go back to typing . . .

Good thing they found that plastic cover for the keyboard. I mean, it's fine with me talking to you over the intercom like this, but your voice sounds really vile and seeing you spitting that stuff out is just too nasty for words. I ain't seen anything that bad since the last time I was on a three day tequila-drank-the-worm bender. WITH speed and LSD to boot! Bleeeeaaaggggh!

I know, I know, it's BEEN two days that you've been oozing in there like that, but Doc says you will be fine. I don't know how he could stand touching you to put the needle in like that but it's a good thing they can just swap those bags without touching you anymore. He really looked kinda green around the gills when he came out, pardon the expression.

The lieu gave me the week off to come and off you moral support. Yes, that WAS what he called it. He told me that a good Christian has a duty to his fellow man but I don't remember anywhere in the Bible that talked about oozing blue slime. Maybe I just skipped over that part. It mighta been in Job or Jedediah or Obediah or Hezekiah or something else like that. Beats me. I never could keep 'em straight.

You were asleep a while back but you shoulda seen it. All the geeks showed up. They had the Geek God down here even, that McKay guy? Jesus but he's annoying! If this were a survivor show they'd vote him off the island or the planet or to get eaten by a monster first. Maybe. It's sort of a toss up between him and that Kavanaugh guy. Actually, I think the Kavanaugh guy's worse. He's got that nasty-ass pony tail that looks like a rat died and that tail fell off it and he's not funny at all. McKay's an ass but he's funny. Then there was this squirrelly little guy from Russia or Prussia or someplace who kept on quizzing Doc. Beckett about how much juice you're putting out and volumes and stuff and why the goo is taking so long to ooze out. Man, you are just totally disgusting! My little nephew wasn't that gross when he had the barfing shits and was just . . . well. You get the idea.

Hey, I'm gonna let ya talk to the geeks here for a while. They want to know how that shit tastes and smells. And my babe, she's wiggling her hips and nips and fingertips and I plan to go get me some hot, bodacious bounty here! Sit back and think good thoughts. Or maybe you oughta hold the good thoughts til you're outta isolation and don't smell like a dead thing and you only got the slime God gave ya instead of that shit. Know what I mean?

G

* * *

From: Melvin  
To: Gearoid  
Subject: Stool pigeon

Ok, if these zoondweebies ask me one more time what this shit tastes like, I'm going to puke on em and let them experiance it first hand. Can you believe some of the dumbass questions they want to know? It's bad enough I have to smell myself, taste myself, and feel myself. I feel like a stepped on slug, and probably look like one, too. I'm trying to avoid any mirrors. But those dickhead scientist act like I'm the next find of the century or something! Yeah, its been four fucking days, and I'm still oozing out my ass. Litterally, for your information. And I ain't kidding you, Gee, this shit hurts! It feels like a demented version of icy hot. ALL OVER! I've heard of blue balls, but this is rediculous! One of those freaks (yes, I realize the irony, they are still freakier than me) just asked me for a stool sample. Like I've been able to keep anything down with the smell to be able to provide! If Doc hadn't put that IV in, I'd be starving here. Those nurses weren't the only ones unable to stand the smell without puking. And for your information, I wasn't making a pass at Nurse Hulk, I was trying to get a spot off her uniform. And if you beleive that, I'm not a smurfing novelty.

By the way, that babe of yours really does have a cute ass. She stopped by when you went to lunch, I think it was to see how your friend was doing so she could offer you "moral support." Sorry if you lost some nookie points. I didn't do anything but sit here and look pretty, I swear! What the -? I can't believe the nerve of that fucking asshole! That bastard! That damn sonofabitch! Fucking LT just told me that since it was my fucking fault this happened, he's writing me up! Giving me a fucking bad conduct counseling and telling me that I'm gonna be cleaning latrines for a month once I get out! As if it weren't bad enough being a blue covered phlegm ball, I have to deal with this shit as well? You know, I really don't feel so hot. The scientists can go dunk themselves in their own puke for all I care right now. I'm gonna knock myself out. Talk to you later. Oh, and Gee? Thanks for stickin around, even if it is just to get a laugh. I'm sure I'll look back on this and laugh right along with you one day. But for now? I'm gonna curl up and try not to aspirate on my own puke.

Maggot

* * *

TBC - After all, sooner or later these guys have to get some WORK done! 


	8. 9 Snotman and Plant Boy

From: Gearoid  
To:Melvin  
Subject: Re: Snotman

Jeez, Maggot! Herkimer and Frost just asked me how my bud, Snotman is doing. Come to think of it, it's not a bad name . . .

If any freak asks you for a stool sample again you got a choice. Either point 'em towards the furniture or hold out your hand cause it's not like you ain't covered in shit already. Blue shit at that! Me, I sort of think you ought to tell the LT that this was your fault, hold your hand out and thank him for pointing out the error a your ways and making you a better man and then offer to go do the latrines right NOW since you're so familiar with the way they smell at the moment. On the up side, these Atlantis crappers really do clean themselves. I swear to god, I think MY LT would be willing to eat off them and you know what he's like. Prissy bastard actually DID a quarter bounce test on my bunk once. I never thought I'd see anyone pull that shit. Told him those new state quarters don't bounce so good but he didn't buy it.

I'm in love! My babe is just the sweetest thing. She told me how she thought I was brave and true and a true blue friend. So to speak. Those were her words, Mags, not mine. You know I wouldn't be caught dead saying stuff like that. And you know how you bitched about having "shave me" written in your back hair? On the up side, your hair all fell out so you get to start over new and clean as soon as the snot clears up. Beckett says it won't be long now, that the chemical decomposition or something like that's not as sludgy as it was. Cheer up, Mags! Before long you won't look like a blue banana slug and I'll bring you beer so you can get your body fluids back into whack! Doc says you'll need 'em and I got one of the geeks to help. That guy with the name that sounds like a slinky, he's really pretty nice. You know, the Czech one? He told me he wasn't no Russian but in a nice way. He's got himself a still going already and he told me he'd help me brew beer too! We snuck out last night and ripped off a batcha burnt toast from the commissary. He says burnt works better for some reason. I dunno what KIND of beer it'll be. Me, I was hoping for Pabst like my grandaddy used to drink but Slinky says I oughta expect Irishy kind of stuff, which is okay cause it's in my blood an all that.

I think that Nurse Hulk may have a thing going for ya. Wait until you don't ooze anymore and try it again. She was asking if you were as disgusting when you're not slimy and I told her you were a fine, dry, normal sorta guy. Crossed my fingers on that last part and I promise I didn't laugh! Oh, and I told her you were hung like a bull moose, so I sorta stacked the deck for ya. I figure the way you are now, none of the babes is gonna want to look closely enough to figure out if that's true or not.

Gee

* * *

From: Maggot  
To: Gearhead  
Subject: Re: Snotman 

Hmmm, I can just picture it now: the Adventures of Snotman and Plant Boy. We could sell millions! Not. So what's going on in the world out there? Doc says I may be out of here in a day or two, since the oozing has pretty much stopped and I'm almost back to my normal color. At least the stench has gone away. I even managed to eat a sandwhich today without puking! I was so proud of myself. First solid food I've had in almost a week.

And, for your information, Nurse Hulk has a name: Nurse Anya. She helped me take a little stroll around the ICU this morning, since I'm about as strong as a kitten right now. I don't know what that shit was, but it really pulled a number on me. Doc says I'll be in therapy for a few weeks to get my muscle tone back, since I lost nearly 15 pounds. And, get this, he bitched out His Nibs when he found out about his hissy fit. I'm on light restricted duty for the next month! No cleaning latrines for me.

Anya said I have a nice smile, and wanted to know if I would go out for dinner with her when I was back to normal. I think I'm in love! Thanks for stacking the deck, man, I owe you one.By the way, when are you going to get the still going? After the week I've had, I could use a drink. Doc says I should avoid caffein and alchy for a while, since I've been so dehydrated. To hell with it, my lovely nurse said she would hook me up with an IV. Just keep away from those pervo plants, ok?

Maggot

* * *

A/N: good advice for us all, watch out for the pervo plants! But not the keyboards. You emailers, thank you! We LOVE the stuff, feedback junkies that we are.  



	9. 10 Demon Chick

From: Gearhead  
To: Maggot  
Subject: Re: Demon Chick

First of all the beer's-a-brewin' buddy of mine! It'll be like the first time we met. Spring was in the air, the Sergeants were howling and the beer was the stuff of life. I am DREAMING about beer! Slinky says it'll be good stuff. He was just about dancing. I ain't never seen anybody so excited about booze in my life and I include my uncle Owen in that. Man used to go on and on and on about Wales and beer, Wales and beer. There were only three things he loved in life. Wales, beer, and Manchester United. Do NOT ask me why. He came back three days late from a game once with his ear bit off. He'd been arrested and kept that ear in his pocket. He pickled the damn thing in cheap booze and kept it on his souvenir shelf! I swear to god, man's nuts. I been asking around about your Anya chick. One of the geeks tells me Anya's the name of a demon broad in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Those guys just kill me, Maggot! Where do they FIND these people? He wanted to know if I'd seen it and started asking me fuckin' TRIVIA questions, I kid you not. That's what HE called 'em! He thinks he's cool cause it ain't Star Trek - yes, he SAID that! He told me how Weir reminds him of Buffy's mom. I dunno if I'm ever gonna be able to look at that woman again with a straight face. Thank GOD I'm not an officer. I mean, besides the fact that my parents are married and all, I dunno if I could sit in a room with her. If I weren't at the bottom of the barrel already she'd be busting my balls back to private faster than I could come when I was sixteen. But it sounds like your Anya chick earned her name. Sobelsky, you know, that marine who dead lifts in competition? He says HE's afraid of her. That she can crack a man between her thighs. Be careful but it sure does sound like she could make ya happy. What a way to go!

And where do you get off about gaining weight? You was already like thirty pounds over! By the way, that shit you pulled to get out of jogging works great when I want to avoid running power bars and crap up to the labs! I swear, those people LIVE on the things. At least the Lord of the Geeks does. You know, that makes me think of a thing . . .Man, find out what's IN that blue goo. We could market that shit and be rich. The Blue Diet! Oooze the pounds away. We'd be bigger than Atkins. Broads would be lining up to ooze their butts away. My god, we'd never had to work again. Think of it, Maggot! We're sitting on a rainbow and sliding into a pot of gold! Blue gold that is.

And do you think you could, like, groan and thrash around a little? Maybe do a fake seizure like you told me you used to do in school? Cause once LT shit for brains figured out you weren't gonna die he pulled me off compassionate whatever and my ass is back to duty now. Kkkeeerap you should see some of what they bring back. I just had to inventory fifteen things that look like purple tarantulas. This captain told me, I shit you not, that "they were considered a local delicacy" on this shithole planet he'd just hauled ass back from. I handled the bushels of dino eggs just fine but when these things kept tryin' to crawl outta their basket while I counted 'em . . . gaaagggh. They got this specialist along, thinks he's a wit. He said since he heard you liked weird crap he wondered if you'd try the tarantulas for 'em. Told me he's a "gormay chef" and that he'd be happy to pan fry them up with butter and mushrooms an' " a hint of garlic." Blleaaagh! They pay the officers to eat the spiders, I ain' t touching that shit.

Gearhead

* * *

From: Maggot  
To: Gearhead  
Subject: Re: Demon Chick

Mmmmm. Beer. Now I can actually taste something other than blue shit, I can't wait! I think I remember your Uncle Owen. He was pretty cool, except for the whole ear thing. Wasn't he the one who copped a feel on my sister at that wedding? I can't really remember, I was too drunk!

The geek squad actually compared my lovely Anya to that demon woman? Are they nuts? She is sooo much hotter than that actress! And no, I have never stooped to watching that show. My little sister was in love with Angel, and babbled endlessly about the damn thing until I broke down one night under a bottle of vodka (which is why I never touch the stuff) and watched an ep. All I can say is, I needed a fast class just to recover! I could literally feel my brain melting. Of course, it could have been the vodka.

Anyway, that's besides the point. The good news is that Mr. Winky won't be so lonely in the near future. My lovely nurse has been placed in charge of seeing to my rehab, and some of the ideas she has! Let me put it this way, Gee. Remember those triplets we dated at AIT? She can do all that - by herself! And yeah, she can probably crush a man between her thighs, but what a way to go!

I think I'm in love, man.

By the way, where do you get off calling me overweight you big tub of lardass? You weigh at least twenty pounds more than I do! More, actually, after all that oozing I did. And you might have something with that blue goo diet thing, but really, I don't think the smell would go over too well. It would be like selling bulimia in a bottle. Not pretty. Besides, it makes your hair fall out, and what chic wants her hair falling out? And Chanade Oconner, or whatever that balled crazy's name was, does not count! She was a psycho.

Speaking of psychos, was that guy serious about the spiders? Because I think it would be cool to try one! Just to say that I had! And besides, it might actually trigger a siezer or something, and I would get to stay away from Hoity Toity for a bit longer. Blegggghhh! I'll take a purple spider over his creepy grin any day. Besides, spiders actually taste pretty good, which you would know if you had taken that SERE training with me. Grasshopper taste like squishy peanutes, but spiders - they're like squashed zuccini.

Ok, ok, I can just see you turning green. Get back to work! Doc says I should be out of here tomorrow or the next if the tests come back clear.

And you can thank me later, but I told him I didn't think I would be strong enough to get around on my own for a while, so guess who gets to be my buddy for the next week, buddy?

I'll talk at you later. Try not to get raped by any more plants, and if you finally grow a pair, don't eat the heads first. They bite. And stay away from the back, they squirt stuff. Start with the legs. Besides, you always liked legs, didn't you?

Maggot

* * *

A/N: Down in Louisiana where they bite the heads, wonder what they'd do with purple spiders? Probably toss 'em in gumbo . . . 


	10. 11 Crop Circles

From: Gearhead  
To: Maggot  
Subject: Tasty and nutritious

I do not believe you. You're gonna EAT that shit? Now I know why your parents named you Maggot. Oh PUKE! They bite? SQUISHY ZUCCHINI? Jesus Christ in a tutu, zucchini's bad enough all by itself. Zucchini with eight furry legs and eyes and teeth? Gagggg! Seymour has started talking about variations on a theme, by the way. I think he said some damn fruity thing about purple spider in honey mustard sauce. He's planning to bring one by for ya for lunch tomorrow. Spider breath. I'm not sure I want to see it, but I figure there's cash in getting you with purple legs sticking out of your spotty blue face. Though I'm still not sure I want my name associated with the kind of pervs who'd BUY something like that!

The triplets. I still have fond dreams and terrible laundry problems cause of them. She can DO that? What is she? Quadruped jointed or something? I kind of envy you if I weren't so scared of the woman. She looked at me and I swear to God I could hear my orifice snap shut. I mean, like, PUCKER! I think I' ll stick with my beautiful Babe, the Botanical One. I started asking the guys to look out for roses and crap like that when they're out there. You better not laugh at me! Stop that right now or I' ll . . . jeez. I' m not sure I can come up with a threat bad enough for somebody who'd eat a purple spider. I tell ya, we have GOT to get you on Fear Factor. You'll totally dominate and crush 'em. Right now I got the willies! Yewww.

But my Babe,. Ahh yes. I fell in love with the perfect woman. She's beautiful, she's smart, she don't study bugs, and she likes to suck my tonsils right out my dick. I am totally in love.

Thank you for rescuing me! LTHT talked to LTSFB and damn, if they didn't set me up to help you out? You know what that means, dontcha? Means LTSFB has you on inventory with me. They figure you can fill out forms now that you're not gonna get blue slime on lquote em! You can teach me that seizure trick and we can see if the spiders'll make a guy foam at the mouth.

One week to beer, my little blue buddy. One week to ambrosia! And yes, my uncle Owen did make advances to your sister. After she offered to untie his tubes, and that man had 'em tied back in 1972. Where did your sister learn to TALK like that, Maggot? It sure as hell wasn't from Busty the Vampire Layer! I can't believe you watched that shit! Does this mean I gotta start carrying crosses and eating garlic? More than I already do I mean. Speaking of which, that's another thing they got me on the lookout for. Bates, you know, Sergeant Hardass with the poodle hair? He button-holed me and told me that garlic was a priority! Jeez how many priorities can a man keep track of? I gotta look for that poochie perfume for Weir cause somebody the LT calls Peter Au Grottin wants it for her, and I gotta keep an eye out for alien hair goo for Major Hair Boy cause the LT says I got to. We all know where THAT one comes from. Now I gotta find garlic for Bates? I tell ya buddy, I can use your help down in Form-Land.

Though I do gotta admit, the hair gel thing is getting critical. Major Hairboy came back through the giant sphincter and his hair was broken. You heard me. Broken. All those little spikey spikes of his were mashed down and bent over and he looked like a crop circle with rank. Last time I saw something that funny was when my brother and me got drunk and made that giant butt in the wheat back home in Iowa. The papers all reported it was aliens and kept tryin' to figure out what it meant. Mel Gibson came to town to visit. We nearly crapped! So you know who's trying to make his mark by saving the Major's hair. They didn't tell me about this in recruiting.

Gearhead

* * *

TBC 


	11. 12 Squid Juice

Bottom Feeder Vocab du Jour! AIT: Advanced Individual Training. If you want to know more, check out and link to /life/advancedindividualtraining.jsp. Now, as to what training Maggot and Gearhead survived (or trashed, if you ask the poor devils who trained 'em . . .) that's a story for another day. We suspect they both were once a higher rank and then, well, shit happened.

And it's still happening so join us for a Maggot and Gearhead first, their FIRST third person narrative story!

* * *

Sometimes Gearoid hated his job. Well, to be honest, a lot of the time he hated it but there were some times that he hated it more than usual, like the times when he had to grab hold of weird . . . stuff. Weird, cold, squirmy, slimy . . . stuff. He shoulda gotten Melvin to do this part. Maggot'd touch anything. Hell, Maggot would EAT anything. He shifted his grip. And stopped. There was a sound. 

It was NOT a good sound.

It was sort of . . . wet. And dribbly. And squirtchy. If that was a word, and Gearoid was pretty sure that it was. And if it wasn't then it should be because that was exactly the sound the thing made. Just before he heard the tiny, little, pitiful squeal. And smelled the smell. And knew everything was going to shit. He did the only thing he could. He stalled. "Before you say a word, Maggot, this is NOT MY FAULT!"

Melvin was staring at him, a blank, stunned look on his face. "What did you do?"

Gearoid stared back at the slow ooze of dark fluid that hung for a moment from the heavy, black monobrow, then rolled gracefully down beside Maggot's nose, around his mouth (thankfully), to drip off the chin. Gearoid pasted what he knew was a pretty sickly smile on his face and did his damndest to sound like he wasn't just pleased as punch that at least this hadn't happened to HIM. "I know that sucker is GROSS. I know it's creepy. I wasn't the one who wanted to keep that mutherfucker. Blame the geeks."

There was another drip. "Gearhead, what did you do?"

"I didn't do nothing! It ain't me. You're the one who wanted light duty. Me, I coulda warned you that inventory ain't a good spot." There was another drip of the inky fluid and Gearoid winced. "I told you about the spiders and you didn't figure it out."

Melvin's jaw worked. The grinding of his teeth was audible. "Gearhead, in simple words, what DID YOU DO?"

"Me? I din't do nothin'!"

"Gearhead, I just got finished dripping blue goo for weeks. Why am I dripping agin?"

Gearoid squinched up his face and carefully put down the creature he held. Very carefully. It wiggled its tentacles.

Melvin hunched forward, glaring through the film of thick goo on his face. "G?"

Gearoid opened his mouth, tried to think of something to say now that he had that big mouth of his open, and gave up and shrugged with a winsome smile.

Melvin scowled. "Why am I dripping?"

"Yer wet?"

"WHY AM I DRIPPING?"

"Oh. That. That's just . . . I dunno." Gearoid held up a finger and offered the bright shiny beam of light in this little murky situation. "Hey! At least it's blue! That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"I am leaking purple foam, Gearhead!"

Gearoid smiled wider. Poked a finger at the rubbery tentacled creature he'd just put down. "Aww, you know that that's just the super squid team four brought back."

"I'M LEAKING PURPLE FOAM!"

"Yeah. I gotta tell ya, purple, it AIN'T your color."

"Specially not that shade a purple."

"G, get the doc."

"I mean, my sister told me that shade was invented in hell just to make bridesmaids look fat."

"The DOC, G! Go, run, scram!"

"You don't need the doc. You just need a shower. Come on."

"I am dripping purple foam!" Melvin held out both his hands, flicking droplets of purple ink. "Do I smell? I can't smell anything, do I smell?"

"Just calm down. There's nothing wrong with you that a good shower and a little Ban won't cure."

"Just tell me! Do. I. Smell?"

Gearoid hesitated, pulled an apologetic face, shrugged and went with the truth. "You reek man. I didn't want to say anything. I know how sensitive you are about that shit, but you smell so bad I think New Jersey smells better."

Melvin was getting red in the face. He lurched towards one side of the table, heading towards . . . "No, no, just . . . stay over there. Okay?" Gearoid circled, keeping the table between them.

"Wait until I get my hands on you!"

"It's the ink. You smell like rotting bait and it's going to your head."

"First the blue shit and now this? Right now I can't decide if somebody oughta put me outta my misery or put YOU outta my misery!"

"Come on. I told ya. A shower, a little bit of, you know, stuff, you'll be fine."

"Fine? FINE? I'm still mottled, here! I look like a giant bruise!"

"No ya don't. You look like a giant squid squirted ya cause a giant squid squirted ya."

Melvin paused, glared at him. "Hey, how come you don't have any of this shit on you? Weren't you the one handling the damn thing?"

"What can I say? I was on one the right end of the squid."

"Is that all you can say? I smell like bait and that's all you can say?" Melvin was turning red again.

"Calm down, Maggot. The chicks tell me they got this douche stuff that makes anything smell better. I'll ask Anya for some for ya."

"Don't you dare! Ask Botany Babe!"

"I'm not the one who's slimed! Why do I gotta ask MY girl?"

"You are gonna ask, you hear me G? You are gonna get this stuff OFF me! If you don't get this shit off me right now, I . . .I. . . . I'm going to go take a nap in your bed."

"My bed?" Gearoid winced at the thought. And the smell that was building up in the store room. And the thought of that smell in HIS room. "I'll do it. I . . . Okay Maggot, okay. Just give me a couple minutes. I'll be back. In a bit."

"A bit. Right." Melvin crossed his arms. "Tell ya what. If you're not back here in five minutes I'm heading straight for your room!"

"No way in HELL! You don't come NEAR my stuff smelling like that."

"Try me. Remember AIT? I did it once, and I can do it again."

"You wouldn't." Gearoid stabbed a finger towards his friend. "You would NOT do that."

The only answer was an evil look. A truly evil look. Gearoird gulped. "That shit . . . that's uncool."

"You know where to find me."

"No, just . . . a few minutes!"

"Five." Melvin held up a hand, fingers spread out.

Gearoid nodded. "Five minutes. Got it."

"I'm counting!"

Gearoid ran. He could almost HEAR the seconds ticking by, running through his fingers like the dripping of squid ink. He knew Maggot. The Maggot would be pacing by now, flicking ink each time he turned. Yeccch.

The beleaguered private could hear the drip-drop-drip of the last few seconds as he slunk back to the store room, pillow case slung over his shoulder. The opening door belched the reek of bait. Gearoid rocked back on his heels then forced his way into the room. He could almost see the stink hanging in the air. Melvin glared as he carefully stepped around the puddles of squid shit on the floor.

"About time." The glare sharpened, moving from his face to the pillow case G emptied on the table. "What is this stuff?"

"You got no patience. Didn't your momma ever tell ya patience is a virtue? And you sure could do with some virtue, gotta tell ya."

"Gearhead, your mama musta told ya ignorance is bliss. Cause right now you're being real ignorant."

Gearoid pointedly ignored him and started pawing through bottles and jars, babbling. ". . . and you should really cultivate patience, ya know, cause you can use some virtue, Maggot. An Italian like you, didn't you go to church? Not like they'd let you through the doors of a church. You'd catch on fire."

Maggot leaned over the table towards him and Gearoid nearly gagged, waving him back. Maggot backed up, grouching, "Only because I was following you and got caught in the back blast."

"Well. Yeah. Sort of, I can't lie about that." Gearoid shrugged apologetically.

"A'right, a'right. I'm working on my patience. Now help me out, this shit smells!"

Gearoid spilled a jar, then a bottle out onto the table. "Here, look, she sent me . . . "

"What is that, tomato paste? And is that douche?"

"I got your seaweed extract, I got your shampoo, I got dish soap, I got douche. I got cactus juice."

"FEMININE SPRAY? Are you shitting me? You want me to start smelling like a - like a - ewwww!"

"'an I got some of Slinky's vodka. Hey, don't diss the douche! My girl says it makes ya smell good ." Grabbing the bottle Gearoid used it like a squirt gun, spraying spritz, spritz . . . "There! Ain't that better than smellin' like bait?"

"Aachchc! Stop that!"

"You'll smell flowerly and fresh, the chicks go for that."

"I'll smell like a lady's crotch!"

"And some of the vodka . . ." Jeez, cocktail from hell. But friendship sometimes demanded sacrifice . . .

"That's alcohol abuse! Ahhh! Not the vodka!" Melvin leaned in and swiped his bottle.

Gearoid backed away, wiping his hands. Took an experimental sniff. "I think that helped. Whatta you think? Does that help?"

Melvin didn't sniff. He took a long draw off the vodka, swished it over his teeth, swallowed and the nodded. "Actually, yeah."

"Wait, slow down, she said you needed to get that off. We gotta go get you showered off."

"Okay." Melvin sucked down another gulp of vodka and nodded agreeably. Then paused . . . narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "Wait a minute. Why the sudden hurry. Did she tell you something you're not telling me?"

"She said we oughta do it quick and she hopes it's not liposuction or something like that. Something about shit that likes fat." That didn't go over so well . . . he was getting an evil look now. "Not like that! Not like fatty fat, like blubber. You know! Like skin and stuff!"

"LIKES FAT? As in I'm going to loose more weight?"

"You should be fine. You said you lost all that weight, you can't have THAT much more fat for it to like."

"Damn straight! The doc said if I loose any more he's gonna put me back in the 'firmary!"

"Maybe it won't be so bad, Maggot. You know, just your skin and all . . ."

That didn't come out right. And Melvin sure didn't seem to think it was comforting. He stared at his skin, then up at Gearoid, then sprayed his mouthful of vodka all over and yowled, "Get it off me! Get it off me!"

"I'll meetcha at your place, Maggot! Get in the shower, man!"

"Aaaaahhhhhh!" The screamed faded down the hall. Actually, the scream kinda hiccupped down the hall since it kind of went bumpy ever time Melvin took another step. Gearoid grabbed his pillow case and followed, snickering and shaking his head. "Geez, I'm glad that ain't me. Guy's got the worst fuckin' luck."

Then, faintly and far down the hall, came, "I heard that!"

"Jesus, you got ears like a bat!"

"I heard that too! I'm going to your room, its closer!"

"Is not!"

"Sure as hell is!"

Gearoid stopped, considered relative locations and smelled the taint of squid in his future. "FUCK YOU AIN'T!"

A demented laugh and the sound of pattering military issue boots was his only answer. Gearoid took off, running for his life. Or at least for his sinuses. He reached his hall just in time to see his door slide shut. Suddenly, being in a place big enough to have private quarters wasn't so much of a privilege. After all, if he lived with other guys, they'd kick Maggot's reeky butt right back out in the hall. Gearoid slammed up against the door that always opened automatically, but didn't open this time. "FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!"

He pounded on his door but the only answer was a maniacal giggle. "Maggot! MAGGOT! Open the damn door!"

"Open it yourself! Whoops, nope, I think it's locked."

"It's locked for me, Maggot, but I'll get Major Hairboy! Alla the doors open for him!"

"Mwhahahahahaha!"

"You do NOT get that shit in my digs! You hear me squiddy?"

"I ain't in the Navy, Gearhead! Try again!"

"That's it. You take over MY room, I'll take over YOURS!"

"Oh, you never told me you like silk sheets. How come I don't have silk sheets?"

"Oh, like you never found anything that fell off a truck."

"Smooooth!"

"You are so dead."

"Silk sheets! And blue silk undies?"

"You don't have silk sheets cause you're a savage and got no culture."

"Are you holding out on me man?"

"You ain't fondling my undies are ya?"

"Mmmmm, so soft!"

"You get your squid stinky paws OFF my drawers you damn squid-scented perv!"

"They even match my complexion!"

"You're worsen' that plant! Least it tried to get me off after it fondled my drawers."

"I can do that, but I don't think your girl would like that very much."

"You get your paws OFF my undies you freak! You listen to me, Maggot, you listen good, you get 'em off or I tell The Ponytail you got the hots for his ass."

"Wow! When did you get leather furniture? You are holding out on me, aren't you? It's so soft! Is this naugahyde?"

"Ponytail, man, Ponytail! And believe me, he'd welcome the news. I got it on good authority he ain't been laid since Clinton's first term."

"Go ahead, tell him. I'll just tell Anya and she'll crush him for me."

"You quit it or I will have you shaved, sterilized and destroyed!"

"I've already lost all my hair, try again! Ohh, your bed is a lot more comfortable than mine."

"GODDAMN IT! I . . . Maggot, okay. You can use my shower. Just stop touching my stuff and let me in there! OH GAWD! Are you getting that shit on my bed?"

"What?" Melvin's voice was suddenly normal. Or as close as he ever got. No evil chortles or maniacal laughter. And the lock clicked open. "Come on, G, like I would really ruin your shit."

"It's just, that's the stuff I brought from home. And you said you already got that squid shit on my clothes - my understuff. You din't get it on my bed did you? I jerk off in that bed! How'll I ever spank the sergeant again with that smell in there!"

Melvin rolled his eyes then stood back to reveal an untouched room. "You and the sergeant and his privates are safe, Gearhead. Like I'd do that to you."

"You didn't touch my stuff?" Gearoid stared in relieved wonder. "Not even my boxers?"

"Of course not. Unlike you, I'm not evil, twisted and horrendously pissy. I just happen to listen when people talk, and you girlfriend loves to talk!"

Gearoid sniffed, snorted at the lingering perfume of bait, and slunk in with his pillow case full of stuff. "Well . . . right. I knew that."

"Can we finally . . ." Melvin paused, raised a hand and sniffed it. Sniffed his way up his arm. Sniffed his pit, which Gearoid coulda told him was pointless since they always stank. "Ewwww! It's getting worse!"

"Well, you been standing around torturing me! Whadda you expect?"

His only answer was a panicked break for the bathroom and the sound of the shower coming on. Gearoid sighed and winced at the bitter realization that the Ancients didn't use shower curtains. He'd seen enough naked men in showers that he knew it was survivable. But some were more ghastly than others.

The patter of running water didn't drown out the splat of wet clothes or the grunts of a wet Maggot. Gearoid clutched his pillow case tighter and girded his loins. A short, choked howl finally brought him the sticking point - at least the one that'd let him stick his head around the corner, eyes tightly shut and jar held extended in one hand. He waved it until he felt water, then wet fingers closed around his wrist. "Here, Maggot, I got some stuff for you."

"It's not coming off!"

"You barely started. Here. Try the cactus juice." Eyes still squinched shut, he waved the bottle again.

"G, get in here and help me out, man!"

"Just take the stuff, Maggot! I don't wanna see nothing kinky there, you know."

"I still stink!"

"Maggot, the sad truth is, you always st -"

"Not like this! I know, I know, it's my back! I can't reach my back! Scrub my back for me, G!"

"Try harder, Mags! Come on! You got squirted with squid juice! It's gotta make ya limber."

"G!" It sounded like Melvin was playing Twister in there, thrashing and splashing and squeaky feet on tile.

Gearoid took one brief peek and scrunched his eyes shut again. "Oh jeeze."

"I would scrub your back! In fact, I did! After the guys dyed you green before you left for Basic, remember how I spent an hour scrubbing your back because you wouldn't quit whining?"

Clearly he'd done something really bad in the twelve years since his last confession, cause God sure did have it out for him this year. Gearoid squeezed his eyes shut and shucked his jacket, slid under the shower, hands out and bumping into stuff. "God, god, this is so wrong."

"You're just helping a buddy man, like I did you. Don't you remember?"

"I don't remember nothng. I was so drunk."

"Come on, help me out here. Its not like I'm gonna grope you or anything."

"You did last time."

"Liar. All I did was wash your back, and you know it."

"No I don't! The last thing I remember was drinking the worm!" Jeez, but he really did stink! Gearoid never had liked fishing and the way Maggot smelled was like a flashback to bad fishing trips of his youth.

Maggot was wriggling around like a stuck worm, trying to see his back. "Scrub harder, man! You gotta remember, it was that time we got soused in that dive in Texas."

"I swear, the worm's the only thing I remember - tasted like oysters."

"Ewwwwww! Stop, I'm gonna puke, G!"

"Little, wormy oysters." Maggot spun around to glare at him and Gearoid closed his eyes again, fast, and reached for one of the bottled he'd brought with him.

"G? That's not the bottle. But you don't have to stop on my account."

"Oh crap!" He let go fast. "You are sick!"

"Yeah." The evil chortle was back. "So?"

"Sick, sick man. Tell me this is causa that blue shit."

"I've always been like this, you know that. Its part of my charm."

". . . I ain't even gonna TRY to go there. Here. Try the cactus shit. My babe says it's good shit."

"Hmmmm, really? If it works, I'll have to get some for Anya."

"Why? You planning to smear squid ink on her too?"

"Ha. Ha. No. She's always going on about how nasty it is to get 'bodily fluids' offa her stuff. So this is good stuff?"

"Yeah, my babe uses it to get sap offa her stuff. Says it's better than degreaser."

"Oh, GOD, what is THAT smell? That ain't the squid . . ."

Gearoid gagged. "Was that you? It sure wasn't me!"

Maggot was making noises like a cat with a hairball. "Did you eat beans again for lunch?"

"It ain't me. It's the cactus stuff."

"I gotta get this stuff off me, Gearhead. I'm serious, I'm gonna be sick!"

The noises he made were enough to have Gearoid's guts roiling in sympathy. He pinched Maggot's side. "You're already sick. Just calm down, okay?"

"Puke sick!"

"I won't tell no one you made passes . . .ewww!" He'd been hoping Maggot was making it up. The proof wasn't pretty and Gearoid jumped, trying to avoid the fallout.

"Oh, that is so dis. . . I think I'm gonna be sick too." Oh lord, that was it. Sympathy gagging turned into sympathy puking.

"Oh, oh, gaaagggggh!"

Gearoid hadn't felt this nasty in a long time. This was like coordinated Olympic heaves, a duet in puke.

Melvin's thick, pukey voice caught his attention. "G, get the doc. Right now. I think I just saw my insides floating away."

Oh, like he hadn't had that idea himself already! He pointed out, "I would, but I just puked my toenails into the crapper. I can't walk without my toenails."

Bodies sliding down tile made a squealing sound. Gearoid had never noticed that before, but that was sure the noise Maggot made sitting down in the shower. "I think I'll just sit here for a minute."

Panting, Gearoid also planted his scrawny butt on the ground. "I think I just saw the wafers from my first communion."

"G? I don't feel so hot. Think it's that squid stuff?"

Gearoid rolled over onto his knees and started to crawl. "Crap, I feel like a snail. I'm leaving a goddamn slime trail too."

"Because I tell ya, I haven't puked that much since my drill sgt found me drunk and made me do cannon cockers! You ok, G?"

Gearoid paused in the doorway, butt in the air, arms splayed out across the floor from dragging himself forward like an inchworm. "I dunno about the squid shit, Maggot, but hearing people puke makes me puke. Sliiimy. I'm sliiiimy."

"Well, you better leave soon, because I'm gonna be sick again! Gagggggh!"

For the life of him he couldn't remember anything bad enough for God to do this to him, but still, it was being done. He tried not to listen to Maggot hurl and pulled himsel another foot towards the door. "Mmmm, how lovely. Cactus scented vomit. Yummy yummy."

It took him several aborted tries that passed in what felt like years, but Gearoid finally made it. He tried for the intercom, but intercoms required that you be able to stand up to use them cause they just weren't located for the convenience of people on floors. Nonetheless, it was the intercom that got them help. He was able to finally make use of the thing indirectly by falling out the door, where three disgusted lab techs took one look - not to mention sniff - of him and ran shrieking down the hall, screaming about a new contagion. They, in turn, bowled over a pair of marines, who girded their loins and did their duty by taking a cautious look down the hall. After which they used the intercom to call Weir and report a possible outbreak of some unknown - and decidedly stinky - disease. She, in turn, put the whole section into lockdown and summoned the medical staff. It encouraged her that the city did not recognize whatever was happening as an outbreak. Had it had a sense of smell, the city doubtless would have attempted to eject the entire quadrant.

The medical team had practiced. They were fast, efficient, professional, ready for death, blood, misery. They weren't ready for a really bad, off-key rendition of '99 bottles of beer on the wall' and two paralytic privates pickled in homemade vodka, but you took things as you found 'em. And the medical team found their two miscreants in the enlisted quarters. They packed them in Tyvek, hosed down the room, the hall, and the store room and hauled their booty off.

It took a few hours to put together the whole picture. Between the singing, puking and hallucinations, they expected to find more than just bathtub hooch implicated, but in the Pegasus galaxy who could be sure? One puzzle resolved after an anonymous tip from the botany studies suggested the presence of a possible experimental cleaning substance which was highly efficacious, but which was not advised for human contact due to certain shortcomings, possibly reputed to include nausea, delirium and uncontrollable flatulence. No one had ever wanted to do the testing to be sure, but there were rumors . . . The presence of the contraband alcohol was also highly controversial but whispered hints from the department of physics and engineering suggested that the chemists might have tried to develop an applied rather than theoretical model of fermentation outcomes in Athosian crops. It was a rumor the chemists hotly denied but the existence of the vodka was indisputable.

Gearoid woke up several hours later to find a lovely and extremely muscular woman leaning over him, studying him closely. "EEP! Anya?"

"Ah. You're awake."

"Uh, yeah. Uhh . . ." He craned his head, looking for Maggot. "Where's . . ."

"Over there." She pointed to the bed next to his, where another nurse straightened with a disappointed look. Nurse2 shook her head. "Sort of damson plum purple. Damn, and I had my money on classic dynasty jade."

Anya grinned. "Better luck next time. This one's normal colored."

"What?" Gearoid struggled into a sitting position. "What are you talking about?"

Anya shrugged. "Well . . . after the blue goo incident, and then with purple stuff . .."

Nurse2 joined them. "We've got a pool for what colors you guys turn." She hitched a thumb over her shoulder. "There's a twenty in it for you if he winds up jade green."

Anya gave him a gimlet stare. "Of course, there might be a broken leg in it for you too."

Gearoid gulped. "Right. Got ya. Jade. Leg."

The nurses exchanged a look and nodded. Then turned as a hoarse whisper from the bed next to them announced another return to consciousness.

"Um, gee?"

"Right here, Maggot."

"Remind me never to get drunk around you again. Weren't we supposed to be on light duty?"

"Um, yeah, about that . . ."

"What happened?"

"You puked. And puked."

"I did?"

"And puked."

"You said that already."

"And puked."

"I'm seein' a theme developin' here."

"Yeah. Well. It was gross."

"Is that why I have an IV hooked up to me again? And why do you have an IV?"

"You, I think you got one for the squid shit. Me, I got one causa you."

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry. That whole sympathy puke thing. Sorry. Do I still smell?"

"Like I'm gonna get close enough to tell?"

"Or did you have beans for lunch again?"

Gearoid sneered. "I didn't have beans. You smell."

Melvin sighed. "Still?"

"Yeah. Cause anything I had for lunch is long gone."

"Man, this sucks."

"Well it's your fault. You know not to get squid shit shot up your nose!"

"Sorry! You're the one who squeezed the damn thing! I was only trying to help! And besides, I just got out, remember? Like I wanna be back here!"

"Least you get to snuggle with your honey." Gearoid sneered then looked over as a throat was noisily cleared.

It might have been noisy, but maybe Maggot still had squid ink in his ears cause he went on, "Not the way I look right now. Purple?"

The throat cleared again. This time Maggot noticed too. A stocky, black-haired man who was entirely too familiar stood in the door, eyeing them both. Or 'booth', as they'd heard him pronounce the word. "Gentlemen, I can't say as I'm any too happy to have you in my infirmary. You're both a wee bit rank. If yeh dinnae mind me asking, what in the name of God were yeh smearing all over yerselves?"

Maggot looks at Gearoid. Gearoid looked back. The two of them shrugged. Beckett walked over to stand between their beds, studying them. "I hesitate to ask yeh for details, though I should let you know that as a doctor, I will hold anything you tell me in confidence."

Gearoid pointed at Melvin and fell back on long habit. "It's his fault."

A sudden coughing fit had Maggot turning purple. Or more purple than he already was. He pointed back, "This is all cause of his squid. It was your squid that started it!"

Beckett patted the air in a placating gesture, "Please, I don' care to know what you gentlemen like to call them!"

Maggot completely ignored him. "You wanted to show me your squid, and then couldn't keep a hold of it!"

The doctor made a face. "Yeh can play with yer squid to yer heart's content but do I need to give yeh the talk on safe . . fishin'?"

Maggot stared at him. "What are you talking about? It dropped on the floor and when I went to pick it up, it squirted me!"

Gearhead, on the other hand, finally paid attention to what was actually being said. "Oh. OH! No, it's not like that, I mean, he may be like that But I like GIRLS!"

Maggot turned to glare at him. "What do you mean I may be like that? Like what?"

"Ah. So one of yeh fell doon then." The Scottish accent was getting thicker and the doctor was turning redder.

Maggot turned a dazed stared on Gearoid. "G? Like what? What're you talking about?"

"Squid, you idiot, squid." Gearoid air humped under the blanket. "He thinks you were squirtin' your squid!"

"It was your squid that got squirted, I was just supposed to help today, remember?"

"Ah, but ah actually thought you might be . . . squirtin' each others' squids," Beckett was watching them both wide-eyed. If Gearoid had been paying more attention he might have noticed the way the doctor was biting down on the inside of his cheek and the bright look of his eyes, but as it was . . .

As it was, Maggot put his foot in it again. "There was only one squid, and it got away after it squirted me!"

"So, do yeh need help often then squirtin' yer squid, laddie? You shoulda come talk to me before then!"

Maggot stared at him, baffled. "Huh?"

"NO! NO! NOT MY SQUID!" Gearoid gesticulated wildly. "He means the squid, not MY squid!"

Maggot glared at him again. "It was too your squid!"

Beckett's eyebrows went up. "An' was there another squid involved then?"

Maggot huffed self-righteously. "IT was HIS squid. I'm not taking responsibility for that thing!" Glanced sideways, "G, why are you turning red?"

Beckett nodded knowingly. "Right. So then he was fondlin' yer squid. Ah see. An' what made yeh decide to use the . . . er. . . cactus juice?"

Gearoid stared between the doctor and his buddy in horror. "NONONONONo! That is NOT how it happened!"

Maggot helpfully offered, "Because we wanted to get the smell off, and we ran out of douche."

"Douche." Beckett coughed and had to take a note on the pad he held. When he finally looked up he wore a solemn, patient expression. "Yeh know if yeh'd come to me I coulda supplied yeh with some perfectly useful gel fer that. We DO have KY."

Maggot tilted his head thoughtfully. "Does KY take the smell out?"

Gearoid was practically hopping up and down in bed, "SHUT UP MAGGOT! SHUT UP NOW!"

Maggot stared back at him, confused. "Huh? What did I do?"

Beckett's voice sounded suspiciously squeaky as he noted, "Ah'm not aware of any smell in particular that KY can remove, though ye're both a bit ripe from that cactus juice. But if ye're havin' problems with phantom smells we could look further or Ah could set up a talk with Dr. Heightmeyer."

Gearoid couldn't take it anymore. He leaned over to Maggot and hissed, "He thinks we were doing a circle jerk!

Maggot stared at him, all color but purple slowly draining from his face. "What?"

Gearoid made a motion over his groin, "You know ..."

"No! What? Why? No! NONONO! It was nothing like that!" He glared at Beckett. "You are a sick man!"

Beckett turned about three shades redder and visibly bit down on the inside of his cheeks "Yeh need to calm down or ye'll be about pullin' the IV out."

Gearoid nodded, then held his nose. "Not to mention wafting that stink around."

Beckett nodded cheerfully, "And there is that."

Maggot threw his hands in the air, "That damn squid squirted me, and then we couldn't get the smell off, so I went to his room to take a shower and he found some stuff to get the smell off and then I drank the vodka and started puking and then I don't remember anything!"

Gearoid rolled his eyes. "Maggot! Calm down!

"But he thinks . . . ! G, he thinks we were doing a circle jerk! All because that damn squid of yours couldn't hold it in when you dropped it!"

Gearoid patted the air, trying to calm him. "I know! I know! Look Doc, I can SHOW you the squid!"

"Oh, no, no, Ah don't think there's any need fer that." Beckett shook his head quickly. "Yer . . . yer squid was perfectly fine when we checked you. If a little marinated in cactus juice."

Maggot turned frantic eyes on the doctor, "Doc, you know my girl, Anya, how can you even think - um - uh" He broke off, turning green under blue under purple, "Oooh, I think . . . G, cover your ears and close your eyes, I'm gonna be sick again!"

Beckett raced to get a bedpan under his chin and Gearoid pulled a pillow over his head, groaning. Maggot was still trying to uphold his honor in gasping phrases, "No, not that squid, the squid in the lab!

Beckett tsked. "Ah'd ask you to be more discreet in yer activities, laddies."

Maggot tried to glare before another spasm got him. "WHAT ACTIVITIES? Bleeeccchhh."

"Yer, ahem, carnal encounters."

Maggot stopped puking long enough to glare. "Ask Sherman, the LT. She gave us the squid. The one the team brought back this morning!" Then he planted his face in the pan again for more wretches. "Sorry, G! Bleeecchhh!"

That was it. That was his limit. Gearoid scrambled out of bed, grabbing his IV stand and making a break for the door. "Ooops! Gotta pee!"

Beckett stifled a snicker and called, "That's not where the toilets are!"

"It's where MY toilet is! I'm outta here! I love ya Maggot, but yer on yer own!"

Maggot waved wistfully between heaves, "Bye, Gearhead. Come visit soon! Bleeecchchh."

Beckett tsked gently and snorted in amusement. "There there, lad. Now, this squid. Was it fresh and which planet did they bring it from?"

"Which planet . . . you always knew the squid was real, didn't you?"

"Oh, aye." Beckett grinned. "Now, do you remember the planet they were on?"

Maggot shrugged, finally finished. "I don't know. It was still twitching, which is why G dropped it."

"Do yeh think he'll get back to his room okay? He seemed rather . . . frantic."

Maggot nodded. "He'll be all right. We've made it back to base in worse condition. Trust me. Oysters and worms and stuff." He shuddered.

Beckett eyed him, thought about asking and then shook himself. Hard. He'd learned enough about their oysters and, worse, worms, he was pretty sure of that. Whether he wanted to or not.

For now, he was going to count his blessings, his ignorance among 'em. Oh my yes.

* * *

Well, of COURSE there'll be more. Maybe some day Maggot'll even be normal colored! 

Or not.

TBC


	12. 13 Talk to The Hand

A/N: Sheppard wanted to send them to the Wraith. McKay voted for the Genii. At the last minute Elizabeth voted them down, so Maggot and Gearhead are back. Heaven help Atlantis, cause they sure won't.

Rated M but only so the kids don't learn a new word or two. I might not read it out loud to the Ladies' Book Club but no words here the average American 13 year old doesn't know and use. In all parts of speech, too.

Best read after Squid Juice. No, wait, that didn't come out right . . . Makes more sense if you read Squid Juice first. There! All better!

Goo

* * *

Gearoid took an experimental sniff. The store room smelled stuffy. Cardboard box-y. Not a bit squid-y and he smiled in relief. "There! Perfectly safe, like I told ya." 

"That's what you said last time." Maggot heaved a long, miserable sigh and slouched past him into the room. "And look what happened."

"Okay, point." Gearoid studied his friend's dour expression and his blue-and-purple-mottled skin.

"Look, I want you to know, today, there ain't NO squid. No squid, no worms, no oysters, no variety a seafood or inveterans at all. Just . . . just you better stay calm today. You got that?"

Maggot rolled his eyes. "So long as you don't point the wrong end of any living thing my direction, I'll be fine. And for your information, the doc said I was doing much better. I'm almost a normal hue."

Maybe normal for a week old bruise, thought Gearoid. He stifled the urge to say it and pasted a cheerful, reassuring smile on his mug. "Well. I don't think we got anything living in here. 'ceptin the spiders but you already ate a few of them."

Maggot held up a finger. "Only the one, and it was sautayed!"

Gearoid shuddered and backed a step away. "I don't think I'm ever forgettin' you with those fuzzy legs stickin' out of your mouth. That was so gross."

"You're just jealous." Maggot smiled, showing his teeth. "Easiest 40 bucks I ever made."

"Jealous a you and your bugs? I don't THINK so! I would PAY forty bucks not to have to deal with those things." Gearoid turned to the sorting table in the front of the room and tugged a box towards him. "Look, are we gonna argue about what you consider hoot kuizzeen or are we gonna get some work done here? We got a load of shit from the med labs to check in and after all the time we spent in there, I figure we need to stay on their good side."

"All right, all right." Maggot bent at the waist and gestured graciously towards the stack of boxes marked 'Biohazard' and 'Research supplies.' "After you, Mouse-hair. Lead the way."

Gearoid stuck out his tongue, then turned back to his box. "Okay. We got . . .these things. What the hell ARE these? They look like . . .dried lizards?"

"EWWWW, don't touch them! I don't think those are lizards, Gee."

"They look like lizards. They're lizards. Right. Right. We got . . ." Gearoid scowled, counting, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. "We got twenty three dried lizards. Where's the line on the form for dried lizards? And what the hell do you USE 'em for?"

Maggot stood there making the kind of face that heretofore only Brussels sprouts could evoke. He pointed to the box. "Umm, Gee, I don't think those are dried lizards. They look like...um, male parts."

Gearoid instantly froze, staring at the little things in the box. Made a Brussels sprouts face of his own and choked out, "Ewww! But don't they got little feet? Aren't those feet?"

A long moment of silence fell while both of them studied the contents of the box. Maggot finally shook his head. "Nope. Definitely dried male parts."

"Awww NO. That is so wrong. Maggot, tell me those are lizards and those are lizard feet."

"I don't think so. Looks like little sergeants if you ask me."

"I really wish I hadn't! Oh . . .oh jeez. I TOUCHED 'em! Ewwww!" Gearoid wiped his hands on his pants so hard he damn near pulled 'em off his ass.

Maggot snorted and leered. "Oh,please. After what you did with the lieutenant?"

"I didn't do nothing with the LT. At least nothing I remember!"

"So you say."

"So I say and I'm sticking by it. Okay. So." Gearoid took a deep breath and girded his loins. After all, if the army needed dried parts, it needed dried parts. "What line do you use to, erm, enter male parts on. The jokers what made up inventory forms never figured on this! What CATEGORY do those go under? Are those medical supplies or WHAT?"

"Um, maybe they're for voodoo?"

"I don't got a category for Voodoo, genius. Maybe 'miscellaneous.' You think so? 'Anonymous dried male organs' under miscellaneous'?"

"That works. You know how they fudge the forms, anyway."

"I don't want to think of dicks and fudge, thank you very much."

"Ewwww! You have a sick mind, G."

"And you love me anyway. Okay." He tapped the description into his data pad. "Twenty-three dried dicks."

"Twenty three dried dicks it is." Maggot nodded and reached for the next box. "What is this thing?"

Gearoid paused, eyed it. "That's that arm. From up in Beckett's lab."

"Ewwwwww!" Maggot dropped it. "Yuck!"

Gearoid reached out and picked it up by a pinky finger, then wiggled the whole thing. "You ain't scared of an ARM, are ya? Just a little ARM?"

"Get it away from me! Get it away from me!" Maggot batted at the pale, ugly thing.

Gearoid snickered and put it on the table. He folded down three of the fingers and the thumb and brandished it by the elbow, "Look! Look! It's givin' ya the finger!"

"G, I mean it, get it away from me or you'll be finding purple spiders in your bed."

His tormentor snickered again, then opened the hand back up to a flat palm and shoved it at Maggot. "Tell it to dah HAND!"

Maggot screeched and slapped at the hand."

Gearhead was laughing so hard he could barely stand up straight. He used the thumb to scratch his head. "What's that? Ya givin' me the no-shoulder?"

"G, I mean it. Stop messing around with that thing!"

Lot of good that did. Gearhead just winked and scratched his butt with the thumb, groaning and wiggling.

Maggot rolled his eyes. "G, I only have two words for you. Pervo plants!"

His friend grabbed the hand and started to dance like Fred Astaire with a hat stand, but then he stopped, standing very still. Slowly, he turned, eyes wide. And even more slowly turned the arm in his hands, holding it by the elbow, staring at the palm. And a slow smile, a smile the Grinch would have envied, curled the corners of his lips. "Oh jeez. Oh jeez I am BRILLIANT. Oh my GOD they oughta kick McKay off the place and put me up in dah lab cause I is a certifiable GENIUS!"

"Gearoid, you're starting to scare me. Okay, actually, you're starting to freak me out. I know that expression on your face." Maggot backed up, looking worried. "What is going through that warped little mind of yours?"

"No, no, listen to this. This is great! This is GREAT!"

He brandished the arm. "You know what you said about the LT? He's got a rough life. Pervy plants. Worms like us."

"Yeeeeaaahhhhh, so?"

"I say we should give him . . ." He waved the hand like the wave of the Queen of England, "A HAND!"

For a long moment Maggot just stared at him as though weighing the options, then slowly he began to grin. "You are goin' to be the death of me, you know that?"

"You love it. You KNOW you love it. Tell me it's not brilliant. Just tell me."

"Maybe. But how we gonna get that thing in there?"

"You leave that to me, my little cannon cocking buddy!"

"Hey! Bad memories! No cannon cockers!"

Gearhead grinned. After all, unlike Maggot he'd been successful in sneaking back in, drunk as a skunk. He waggled his eyebrows. "Cause I know something, something most of these guys don't realize. You know when The Brain was testing everybody looking for a Pinky who could open doors?"

"Umm, sure, whatever you say." Maggot suddenly stopped, glared. "Wait a minute. You passed, didn't you? You can open the doors, can't you?"

"Well, I never told ya, and I never told him, but in the middle of that somebody waved a candy bar at him and you know he's like a dog with a bone when you show him chocolate. He had his back turned

and suddenly everything lit up. It ain't reliable, it's like a short circuit's in there, but it lit up. But yeah. I can open the door. Take me a while, but I can do it."

"Holy shit! You been keeping shit from me man? That ain't cool!" Maggot looked highly insulted. He grabbed the arm from Gearhead and smacked him in the face with it.

"Hey, hey, you know I hate that hand to hand stuff!" Gearhead grinned. "I was savin' it as a surprise, kind of! I mean, there you were all blue and shit and I couldn't tell ya then. And before that it just slipped my mind."

"Bullshit, you just wanted to be able to sneak into the girls changing room in the labs without telling me!"

"Hey. Well. Yeah. That's true but still."

"Riiiiight, just slipped your mind." Smacked him again with the arm.

Gearhead ducked another smack attack. "Come on, come on, it's a staff meeting. We got an hour to

get this in there. Then tonight . . ." He chortled evilly.

Maggot felt a brief twinge of common sense, then ignored it. "I swear, I better not turn any strange colors over this."

"What color could you turn? You're already spotty!"

That earned Gearhead a glare and one more clout to the head for good measure.

"Hey, stop it." Gearhead grabbed for the hand and missed. "And it's not like you're the only one who ever had spots. I had spots before. Yeah, it was when I was fourteen and had zits that had zits a their own, but still . . ."

"This is different! I look like a giant plum with dysentery! Its just lucky for me Anya's favorite color is blue."

Gearhead cocked his head and held up his hands like a photographer framing a shot. "Ya look like one of those dinosaur plums. You know, the sort of putrid yellow with purple ones?"

"I AM NOT YELLOW!"

"Heeheheh. Come on. We got evil to do."

"You are such a bad influence." Maggot used the arm to scratch his back, then stopped as he felt it twitch.

Gearhead wasn't paying attention. He was reveling in being an evil mastermind. "That's me. Mr. Bad Example. Mwahaha. And hey, I OWE him one!"

Maggot slowly brought the hand around and studied it. "Um, Gee? Are you sure this thing is, like dead?"

Gearhead snorted in irritated disbelief and grabbed his arm back. "Gimme that."

Well, there was only one possible reply. "Hey! I'm unarmed, help!"

The arm was shaken in his face. "Look at it! It's cut offa some ugly dead guy. It sure as hell IS dead."

"Okay, okay!"

Gearhead frowned at him, then turned, ducking his head out the door to look one way, the

other, ducked back and waved, "Coast is clear!"

They crept out into the hall, Maggot following Gearhead. Maggot waited until they reached a corner, turned it, then whispered, "Um, because you know, I could have sworn I felt it move. You know, twitch twitch?"

A hiss came back over one shoulder. "IT's DEAD. Look at it." Gearhead wiggled it so it waved back over his shoulder at Maggot. That was fine. Until it gave Maggot the finger.

"AHHHHHHHH!" Maggot shrieked like a girl and smacked it out of Gearoid's hand.

The disarmed man rounded on him. "Will you SHUT UP. You're gonna give us away."

"It it it it it! Look at it!" Maggot grabbed Gearoid by the chin and turned his head to the twitchy thing. Which was, irritatingly, not twitching or doing anything else besides just lying there.

Gearoid scooped up his arm again, singing, "Just a helping hand . . ."

"G, put the hand down! I mean it!" A frantic whisper, "It ain't dead! Geeeee!"

"It's cut OFFA some icky Wraith guy's BODY. What, you never took high school biology? This is NOT like an earthworm."

"Yeah, and I'm not blue and you weren't raped by a plant!"

"Calm down. You sound like a girly girl in a horror movie. Before long you're gonna tell me you're sure we're being followed."

Maggot looked over shoulder to see if they were being followed.

Gearhead groused, "And I was not raped. It just wasn't necessarily consensual."

"Oh, yeah, tell it to the hand," Maggot mimicked his voice.

"Look," Gearhead spun around and held the ugly thing by its thumb and pinky, dangling, with a finger up his nose. "It's harmless. It's dead."

Maggot poked it. It didn't move. It hung there. Ugly, picking a human nose. Maggot glared at it. "I'm telling you, man, it moved!"

"You still got that blue goo and squid ink going to your head."

Maggot slapped the arm. "You moved, didn't you, you piece of alien shit?"

"Will you quit slappin' my hand around?"

"Its a bad hand!" He turned back and tucked the forearm under his arm. The hand waved genteely.

"AGGHHHHH! See, see, it moved!" He grabbed the hand and threw it to the ground, stomping on it.

"Give me that! You ain't played enough poker ot know what a bad hand looks like. Now will you shut up and come on?"

"Bad hand, bad hand!" Stomping.

"It's just lying there." Gearoid scooped it back up and clutched it to his chest like a teddy bear.

"There, there, I won't let the bad, violent private get you baby."

"G, let the bad hand go! I mean it, man, it's EVIL!"

"It's not evil, it's just sick. You are not acting reasonable!" Gearhead stalked off.

Maggot chased him. "No, you're sick! Give me that!" He grabbed for the hand.

Gearhead skipped out of reach. "I'M not acting reasonable? I'm not the one who thinks a dead, cut off arm is evil."

Maggot lunged and tried to get the nasty thing away from him. Gearhead danced back, holding it over his head like a kid playing keepaway. "Will you come ON! We're gonna get caught."

Maggot glared from the hand to Gee. "Fine, but if it decides to start strangling you, don't look to me for help."

"Fine. Fine. IF it starts strangling me you can have my silk boxers. I already promised the sheets to The Babe."

"Oh, I see where I stand," Maggot mutters, glaring at the hand.

"I"m letting you get into my undies! Ain't that close enough for ya?"

"Shut up, Gearhead!"

"I'm not the one who started this."

Maggot slunk along behind Gearhead, keeping an eye on the evil thing.

The hand just lay there, quietly, until they get to the lieutenant's door. Where Gearhead stared at the door. "Open SESAME!"

The door didn't open.

He stomped his food. "Abracadabra!"

Maggot snorted and the door did nothing.

"Open the fuck UP!"

It opened.

Gearhead smiled and made a "tahdahhh!" gesture. "There! I always knew fuck was the magic word!"

"Good job. Now can we get this over with? That thing gives me the creeps."

"That's what it's SUPPOSED to do. Just think about Ell Tee Ess Eff Bee!" Gearoid snickered and slunk into the lieutenant's quarters. "Hey, HE's got a window!"

"Yeah, yeah, just stick it in his bed and let's get the hell out of here!

"I don't got a window!"

"What do you expect? He's an LT!"

Gearhead was poking around. "Who'd HE blow?"

Maggot snickered. "Maybe if you blow the Major he'll give you windows too. Besides, you have silk sheets, and I don't have silk sheets."

Gearhead shot him a dirty look. "On second thought, I do NOT wanna know how he got his window."

"Oh, afraid to dredge up memories? Poor thing."

"Look, I thought we discussed this. The LT and me, nothin' went on."

"All right already, whatever you say. So, can we do this and get out of here?" Maggot stood there shifting his weight from one leg to the other, nervously watching the door behind him.

Gearoid snuck around the room on tippy toes, even though there was no

one there to tippy toe around. "This is a work of art and ya can't rush art."

"Just put the stupid thing in his bed and let's go!" Maggot hissed.

Gearhead pulled back the covers and tucked in his arm,pulling the coverlet up to the fingers. Stood back and considered the effect. Turned his head one way, the other, tilted it back and tapped a finger to his chin. "Nah. I think that's a little obvious."

"Oh for crying out loud! Let me!" Maggot reached past him and shoved the arm under the pillow and the covers.

"Careful, careful!" snapped Gearhead. "Look at that, he'll know for sure someone's been in here.

"Jeez! Will you just get it done? I want to get out of here!"

Gearhead smiled, leaned down and lifted the pillow to tuck in his pet, then chuckled. "Look at this. He's got porn under here! Oooh, this'll be perfect!"

"Great, perfect, are you done yet?"

"The devil is in the details . . ." Gearhead did a little last tidying of rumpled covers and pillowcase, then clapped his hands. "Perfect, Maggot! Yeah. Like THAT!"

"Gearhead, time line, remember?"

"Right, right. Can't get caught up in rosy visions. Right."

"Lets go! We still have lizard parts to inventory."

Gearhead nodded, satisfied smirk on his face, and turned to head for the door. Only to stop, back up, spin with a look on his face. A bad look. "Whoops."

Maggot stared. "What? What is whoops?"

"Oh jeez, oh jeez, we gotta hide!"

"WHAT?"

"Under the bed! Now!"

"Oh for . . .!" Maggot cursed but he also dove under the bed.

Gearoid didn't waste any time following, squeezing up next to him on Ancient floors that somehow seemed to be dust-bunny-proof.

Maggot was glaring at him. Suddenly he leaned in close, lips to Gearoid's ear, to ask, "What the hell are we doing?"

"Hiding!" He mouthed.

"Why?"

"Be quiet!"

Maggot might have been about to ask why, but that question was answered when the door opened. Both of them froze. Army boots stomped in. Maggot was holding his breath. Gearhead was nibbling his lip.

The lieutenant was humming something from Sweeney Todd, which both of them knew having been told about his favorite musical more times than they liked to recall.

Ah yes, that tenor rose up, singing, "Well, then, if you're British and loyal/

You might enjoy Royal Marine/Anyway, it's clean./Though of course, it tastes of wherever it's been!"

Gearoid made a face and squeezed up even tighter against Maggot. Who snickered inaudibly and whispered, "Hey, G, how could he like a marine more'n you?" into his ear.

He stuck out his tongue and put his hand over Maggot's mouth, whispering "SHUT UP!"

Too late he remembered Maggot was the man who'd eat anything, when his buddy licked his lips. Gearhead felt what he assumed was an evil leer, judging from the way Maggot waggled his eyebrows, but at least he was quiet.

There was a lot of rustling and then the bed squeaked as the lieutenant sat down on it. One foot was lifted and there was a bit of grunting.

Maggot wiggled closer to Gearoid to get away from the indent. Gearoid thumped his head on the floor - silently - and rolled his eyes.

There was a moan of pleasure and then "Yes, piggly wigglies, breathe FREE little feet! I come to save you from the dungeon of THE BOOT!"

Maggot was turning purple again trying not to laugh. Gearoid was turning purple too, both hands over his mouth, shaking with laughter. The two of them shared a look and nearly strangled on their tongues as they tried not to make a sound.

The lieutenant crooned, "I shall slay the evil boot and cast aside the bondage of the SOCK in which you have so long endured!"

Maggot biting his fingers, trying to keep from bursting out when there was a sudden jerk of the bed over their heads and a scream so shrill it could break glass, and suddenly the feet, one booted

and one bare, raced towards a door that opened automatically.

Maggot nearly magenta, could finally give in to his howls while Gearoid lost it, shaking with laughter as he rolled out from under the bed. "Oh, I gotta see I gotta see!"

Maggot could only lay there and gasp for breath. Gearoid, hands on knees, turned back to him. "See? See? Din't I tell ya that'd be GREAT?"

Maggot just nods as he rolled the rest of the way from under the bed, sobbing with laughter.

Gearoid's eyes gleamed. "And you dared to doubt. Oh ye of little fuckin' faith."

"Be - be free little piggly wigglies!" Maggot gasped. "I shall slay the sock!"

Gearoid rubbed tears of laughter off his face. "Oh crap I nearly shit myself tryin' not to laugh out

loud!"

There's another shrill scream from the hallway, and then "OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT?"

Maggot stopped laughing. Gearoid paused, gasping, puzzled. "Huh?"

Maggot sat up fast and dashed for the doorway, "I told you that thing moved!"

Gunshots rang staccato in the hallway as Maggot ran through a door that, thankfully, opened for him. Gearoid was right behind him, muttering, "Oh, shit!"

"We are sooooo dead!"

"You can say that again!"

"Follow it! Follow it! We have to get it back!"

"Follow what, Maggot? We don't even know what it IS yet! Maybe it's somebody ELSE'S fuckup! You don't know it's us."

Maggot just glared at him. "Did you see that fucking arm lying around in there? Did you? No, because it was hanging on the LT's butt!"

"You couldn't see that! We only saw his feet!"

"Maybe not, but I can see -" They rounded a corner and Maggot pointed, "THAT!" There, at the other end of the hall, they could see the grisly end of an arm flailing in midair as it disappeared around the corner.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! Get it, get it!" Maggot barreled down the hall after the lieutenant and his unwanted hitchhiker.

Gearoid took a deep breath then gave chase. "Come back here you lily livered limb!"

"Oh, Gods!" Maggot gasped, "He's heading for the cafeteria! Why the hell is he going there?"

The lieutenant's screams and those of everyone he passed told them they were still on the right trail as they dashed around yet more corners, down more corridors. Every so often they'd catch a glimpse of the lieutenant, and more specifically his butt, where a pale hand clung tight and an arm bounced along behind him.

Gearoid yelled, "LT! We'll help!"

Maggot called reassurance, "Hold on, sir!"

And from far down the hall, a hiccupping howl of, "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" rang out with occasional counterpoint of witnesses' "AAAAAAAAHHHHH!"s.

"Sir, you gotta let us catch ya!" yelled one desperate private.

"Catch him Gearoid, grab it! Grab it! Sir, would you fucking STOP!"

As they cleared the cafeteria doors, Gearoid threw himself in an all-out tackle. He missed

the lieutenant but he got the elbow and the hand was ripped loose, taking the back of the LT's pants with it.

"Smash it! Stomp it!" Maggot yelled, trying to stomp on the thing.

The lieutenant, Tweety Bird briefs in full view, dashed away unencumbered. The hand, meanwhile tried to pull itself out of Gearoid's reach as Gearoid, for his part, tried to get a better grip further up its length. It stopped, turned, and demonstrated that the Three Stooges were eternal as it struck like a snake, once, duck, twice, duck, third time in the eyes, and Gearoid dropped it and yelped, grabbing his face.

"No you don't!" Maggot stomped on it, but the wily hand pulled back and the stomp missed and got Gearhead instead. "OUCH!" That was all it took and the hand scuttled away, dashing on nimble fingertips to freedom!

Gearhead rolled, yelping, "OW OW OW OW OW!" as Maggot turned to the pursuit. Over his shoulder he yelled, "Gee, you ok?" It was a fatal error as a panicking diner leaped back, knocked over a chair, which fell in Maggot's path. He saw the barrier at the last moment and fell back, only to step on Gearhead, still curled up on the floor. Maggot fell on him, knocking what little air was left in him back out. Halfway across the floor he saw a severed elbow waggle past a line of chairs as the arm made a break for open air. "It's getting away!"

"Oh CRAP, Gee, it's getting away!" Maggot tried to stand up, kneeing Gearoid in his haste. "Oooooh! My nutssss!" Gearhead's voice went very high and thin.

Maggot winced in sympathy, "Sorry! You wait here, I'll go chase it!"

"okay!"

Finally reaching his feet, Maggot yelled, "You mother fucker! Just you wait until I get

BOTH my hands on you!"

He couldn't immediately see it, but shrieks from the lunch line were a pretty good clue. And while both Gearoid and Maggot had grown used to shrieks from lunchlines since joining the army, these had a slightly more ominous tenor.

Maggot paused, turned back. "Sorry G, but it's gonna take us both to get that arm." He pulled Gearoid to his feet and dragged him along to the lunch line. Gearoid scooted, hunched over and clutching his groin, muttering dire threats.

Maggot's attention was everywhere, looking for a sign. The muttering was just a nuisance. "Quit whining you big baby! There was barely anything to hit."

"Oh, the sergeant just got busted in rank! Just you wait until I can stand up." Gearoid paused, peering through the sneeze guard. His eyes widened. "Oh jeez, is that it? Over there in the egg salad?"

"Yeah, holding the tuna fish sandwhich!"

Gearoid stumbled to lean against the tray railing. "You can't mix those together!"

"Tell it to the sandwich!"

A pretty young woman was sneaking up behind the hand, poised to pounce. She realized her mistake an instant too late as the hand turned, squeezed the sandwich and tuna caught her in the face. "Aaaaggghhhh!"

Maggot jumped over the counter, trying to tackle the thing. He got his hand on its wrist and shouted in triumph, "I got it! I got it!" Unfortunately, he had planted a boot in orange jello. He might have had a chance with lime, but orange . . . notoriously unstable. An instant later the jello betrayed him and he slid face first into the pickled beets. The hand slapped down on the back of his head and

finger-walked down his back, pinched his butt and leapt off into the meatloaf.

Blinded by pickle juice and stained magenta to go with his blue and purple spots, Maggot cried out, "Get it Gee!"

Gearoid, still hunched, tried to grab it and was pelted by boiled potatoes and Athosian squash. Maggot, still trapped between jello and beets, tried to stand but slipped and went down again. He finally grabbed a tray and slapped at the hand, where it had taken a stand among the side dishes. He had to admit, it was a strategically superior position as the potatoes were far better weapons than meatloaf or chicken surprise.

Gearoid, seeing his buddy mired in main dishes, rallied and infiltrated through the dessert rack. "Goddamn you get back here! You're all over dah place worse than Mary Ellen Potocki on our first date!"

Maggot was still bravely trying to stand, but he slipped and did the splits just as another vegetable missile caught him in the nose. "OW! EEEP!"

The hand scuttled between his split legs, catching him in the crotch with a flailing elbow. It was the final indignity. Maggot's eyes crossed and he rolled out of the food and onto the floor. Gearoid was still standing, barely, when an irritated voice, with the snap that could only belong to a senior officer, demanded, "What the HELL is going on here?"

Maggot and Gearoid looked towards the door to see a small crowd of senior staff, including Major Sheppard, Hairboy himself, unsuspectingly glaring at the mayhem. The pair opened their mouths to warn him but it was too late. A potato got him in the forehead. Hard. And he went down in a stunned heap.

"Hello, sir," Maggot squeaked out.

Gearoid, nursing sore nuts, bruised eyes, and a bloody nose from a potato, looked over to find the major wrestling with a hand that was trying to scramble up his chest. His voice didn't have the snap but it sure as hell had the irritation as he yelped, "What the hell is this!"

The hand was clearly knew a good thing when it learned it. It went for the Stooges routine again, poking left, right, center and the major squealed, curled up, grabbing his face as the hand scampered off.

Maggot crawled to his knees and tried to stand, trying to help Gearhead up along the way. "Come on, we gotta help them."

Gearoid groaned and stayed hunched over, but peered towards the door. "Oh shit."

Maggot followed his gaze to where Kavanaugh, PonyTail himself, felt a hand run over his foot, screamed like a girl and threw his tray into the air. Soup, bread, and peanut-butter-and-jelly showered the region. Kavanaugh himself went up in the air, and down on his butt.

Gearoid winced. "Oh, that has gotta hurt."

Behind Kavanaugh, the flying tray caught Elizabeth Weir who tried to

duck, and wound up landing on Kavanaugh knees first.

Gearoid winced again. "And that's gotta hurt worse."

Maggot scrunched up his face and nodded, "Ohhhh, that's gotta suck!"

Beside Weir, McKay yelped, dodged, and Zelenka stomped hard on the hand, yelling, "Is hand!" The hand, anticipating the move, grabbed his ankle and twisted and the little Czech went down hard into the Canadian astrophysicist, causing a domino effect which overturned another three people in a row.

Gearoid, seeing the impending disaster, reached out and grabbed the back of Maggot's shirt. "Maggot, MAGGOT!"

A horrified Maggot finally looked back, "What?"

"We gotta get out outta here! We get out of here now, and maybe they won't know we had anything to do with it."

Maggot snatched at the hope, "We'll just say we ran into the LT and tried to help."

Gearhead nodded, "Yeah. Yeah. That's it! We'll say we never saw the thing!"

Maggot smacked Gearhead to get some sense into him. "Of course we saw the thing! We were trying to capture it! But we didn't know about it until we ran into him!"

Gearhead warmed to the theme as they made for the back exit, "It came from the lab geeks after all. It's THEIR hand! Yeah, yeah, that works. That's good, Maggot, that's GOOD!"

"Of course it is, now get it together!"

Gearoid, still gasping and a bit green around the gills, made for the store room. "Come on, come on, we got dicks to list."

Maggot followed, trying to walk without grabbing his balls. Behind them were shouts and screams and the sound of crashing cutlery and dishware. But before them lay the safe, sane haven of the stock room where they found their nice, quiet box of dicks. Gearoid peered into it and said "These don't move, do they?"

Maggot snorted, "Even if they do, you won't listen to me! Just open the box and look."

"I always listen to you. I just don't do anything about it."

"Shut up!" Maggot slapped the back of his head.

Gearhead ignored him and poked the box, listening. Poked it again. "I don't hear nothing."

Maggot slapped it. "I think its safe."

Gearhead flipped open the lid and peered nervously in. "One-two-three . . .mannny!"

"What?" Maggot looked in.

"There's twenty three there, right?"

"Yeah, twenty three dicks."

"Whooo."

"What? What?"

Gearoid leaned back against a wall. "I'm exhausted. I think that's enough work for today."

"Oh, yeah." Maggot sank down to the floor.

Gearoid settled down next to him. "Man, this job is ROUGH. The officers got it easy."

Maggot started to giggle, just a little.

Gearhead sighed. "There's just one thing."

"Uh, oh! What?"

"You know . . . you're red?"

"What!" Maggot stared at him.

"Yeah. Red. Beet red. Like, pickled beets. In fact . . ." Gearhead reached over

and fished one out of his collar. "That's exactly the shade."

"Shut up." Maggot punched him in the nose.

"OWWWW! What'd I do?"

"I told you what I would do if I turned color again."

"You did NOBB!"

Maggot shrugged, flinging beet and tuna salad on the floor. "I look like an easter egg. I am never leaving my room again."

"Yeah, you do kinda look like an Easter Egg. You know how they get dyed in half and the other half stays a different color? You're kinda black for your hair, and blotchy, and red on one half."

Maggot glared.

Gearhead snickered. Looked at the glare. Snickered again. "Piggly wigglies."

"I will slay the evil sock."

The two of them together sang out, "Since marine doesn't appeal to you, 'ow about... rear admiral/ Too salty. I prefer general./With, or without his privates? "With" is extra."

Which was quite enough work for them for one day, yes indeed.

* * *

Well, surprise surprise! Will the powers that be ever get any WORK out of these two? Will they figure out their dastardly secret? And will Major Sheppard figure out where that new table lamp in his room came from - you know, the one wearing fishnet stockings and holding up the lampshade, the one that never worked? 

TBC

Goo


	13. 14 Nailed it in One

Nailed it in One

By Rank-and-Filed and Livengoo

email to livengoo. Mwahahahah.

You know the ones who belong to Gekko and MGM, and believe me, Maggot and Gearhead aren't amongst 'em. Those boys are all ours. We borrowed the rest, respectfully, and returned them undented, in good condition.

Hope you enjoy! And we LOVE email. It's even better than chocolate.

Goo

* * *

The table tasted like week old bait. It was something that Maggot tried hard to ignore as he knelt in front of the store room table, tongue laid out in its surface like a sacrificial victim if sacrificial victims came in extra-small. This one sure did, tiny and laid out with nail gun poised above it. He could smell the metal and machine oil of the thing as he held it steady, pointed at his tongue. 

He couldn't quite recall what had prompted him to this course of action, other than that while brushing his teeth that morning he had realized that his tongue piercing had closed up. Unless he acted fast, he would have to shell out another hundred bucks when he got back the good old Earth to get it redone.

Or he could do it himself, and save himself the money. After all, the man who had pierced it in the first place had explained that the tool he used was just a fancy version of a nail gun. It wouldn't be that much different, would it?

Slowly he lowered the gun, eyes crossed, hand shaking slightly from the weight of the gun.

"What the FUCK do you think your doin'?" a voice bellowed. Are you tryin' to nail your damn tongue to the fuckin' TABLE?"

Maggot startled and jumped, his finger jerking the trigger even as the gun was knocked out of his hand. A loud bang sounded through the room as three things happened at once.

First, Gearhead stumbled back, yelping in pain as he tripped over his own feet and fell, slamming his face against his knees as he went down.

Second, the nail gun released its ammo and ricocheted back to slam into Maggot's nose with a nasty crunch. It went on to bounce off the table and land on his head with an impressive thud.

And finally, there was a sound of tinkling glass and a high pitched scream filled the hallway outside the room. But Maggot and Gearhead didn't notice that. They were too busy, both clutching their faces and moaning.

Gearhead had his hands cupped around a nose that was dripping blood. He frantically pawed his own face, feeling for a nail hole as he gasped, "Did it go up my nose? Did it go up my nose?"

"No," Maggot gasped, curling up into a little ball as he, too clutched his face. "It got mine! It got mine!"

Gearhead stared at blood on his fingrs. "I got a nail in my brain, I know it. Oh God, do I got a nail in my brain? Oh, jeeze, we're nailed, we're nailed!" He had his fingers up his nose, feeling for anything pointy and hard lodged there.

Maggot groaned, getting to his knees to look at his friend. His voice was still muffled by the hand cupped over his own face. "Don't worry, G, that would be like hitting that little dot on the target. I think you're safe,"

"FUCK you! I'm not the moron who was tryin' to nail his tongue to the table!" Gearhead groused, glaring.

"I wasn't trying to nail my tongue to the table! I was going to move it off before I shot the damn gun. YOU interrupted me!" Maggot snapped back.

"You'd a nailed your damn tongue to the table and you know it!" Gearhead argued, glaring at his blood covered hand.

"I am not that stupid, thank you very much!" Maggot growled.

Both men were silenced by another scream from the hallway, followed swiftly by, "Gawd DAMN it!" in a thick, South African accent. "Those were my LAST pair of Jimmy Chu's!"

"Ohhh, that's not good!" Gearhead hissed, slowly climbing to his feet. Quietly he made his way to the doorway, peeking his head around the corner.

There, standing not ten feet away, was a man in a labcoat that looked like Jackson Pollock got it if Pollock were a leprechaun, and a short woman in tall, fuck-me-here-on-the-desk heels.

The woman was glaring at her high heels, which had turned from delicate pink to a hideous green. The lab tech beside her was staring in horror at the LARGE shattered remains of a carboy that had spilled all over the hall flooring.

Gearhead sighed. "That, now, THAT is a big fuck up."

"Oops," Maggot murmured, peering around his friend to catch a glimpse of the wreckage.

Gearhead winced at the rapidly swelling mess of Maggot's face. Gently as he could he pulled one of his friend's hands away, grimacing at the blood. He raised an eyebrow. "Huh. Looks broken."

"Yeah, I don't think they can replace that," Maggot agreed, staring in stunned shock at the complete wreckage of the glass container.

Gearhead considered the distracted Maggot and his broken nose for an instant, then reached out swiftly, saying, "Right about -" YANK - "there!" One quick tug and Maggot's nose was nice and straight again.

Not that the ungrateful sot appreciated it. "AAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Obviously it was going to be a while before Maggot appreciate the favor he'd just received. Gearhead decided to save him from potentially demonstrating ingratitude and slunk out of the store room, hands raised, calling as he maneuvered backward away from the spreading puddle of vile green dye, "Okay, no panic folks, gonna get building services down here and take care of that problem right away." If he was lucky - and fast - he'd be out of range before Maggot could recover enough to move, and by the time Maggot could find him the guy'd realize that he'd actually come out ahead of the game.

He was fast but he wasn't lucky. Maggot was already in motion. One hand still clutching his bloody nose, muffled voice cursing with great and startling fluency, he stalked out of the store room in hot pursuit. "You stupid sonofabitch! What did you do that for?"

Gearhead smiled placatingly. "Look, it was broken! I pulled it straight and you didn't have to sit there worryin' about how much it'd hurt!"

"Did it ever occur to you that SOME people use good drugs and then I wouldn't HAVE to worry about it hurtin'?" Maggot's voice kept getting louder and higher and he kept getting closer. That was one thing to worry about, but it suddenly occurred to Gearhead that it wasn't the only thing to worry about. Fashion-Vic-South Africa and Labcoat were just watching the whole deal and neither of 'em said a word. Gearhead had opened his mouth, oh man, he'd actually gotten the first part of a word out, that little bit of "Lo-" that was gonna be "Look the fuck OUT!" but it wasn't quite soon enough. Missed it by a hair. Just . .. A split second too late as Maggot's stomping footsteps took him right into the center of the spill. Green dye splashed and Maggot ignored it. Gearhead got another half a word out, the "OOK" part of look, but Maggot never paused. He lifted one foot, shifted his balance forward even as Gearhead forged right on into the "OW" part of what was gonna be a warning and then it was too late. Maggot's feet slipped out from under him and before he could so much as scream, he found himself doing a faceplant, yelping as his nose slammed into the floor.

For one moment Gearoid stared stupidly at his friend, crumpled on the floor. Then his own feet slipped out from under him and he found himself airborne, only to renew his acquaintance with the hard, hard ground by way of his now-painfully-bruised butt. He winced, trying to stand again, only to slip and splat down to earth again.

"Oh, shit!" he groaned, grimacing. He tried to roll over, saw the green mess and glass, and swore again. "SHIT!" Attempted to roll the other way and saw it was even worse than the other side. "MUTHAFUCKA!"

A quiet whimper brought his head up to see Maggot curled up in a little ball, probably considering either crawling up his own nose or committing murder, whichever seemed least painful. Gearhead briefly considered making a break for it while Maggot was still immobilized, but that wasn't friends. That wasn't buddies. He bit the bullet and planted his hands in the green mess. A sudden, "YOW YOW YOW!" like a Siamese cat in a bath escaped him as he climbed to his feet. And promptly slipped once more, falling back to the floor with a resounding thud.

Just as well he hadn't managed to get to his feet to offer aid and comfort. Maggot must have seen the movement because he kicked out and barely missed Gearoid. Probably pure defensive instinct, given how he curled back up as if his nose was the painful center of his universe.

"Excuse me!" A remarkably impolite, nasal voice demanded his attention. The woman with the ruined shoes was tapping her green-dyed pointy toe. Behind her, the splattered tech was backing up, using the cart as a support to prevent himself from going down. Gearhead envied him the convenient piece of rolling furniture as he turned back to look at Maggot, who finally seemed to realize he was sitting on broken glass.

"EXCUSE me," repeated the woman. "You need to clean this up and who'll repair my shoes?"

Gearhead glared at her again. "Lady, right now I got more important stuff on my mind than your shoes!"

"Do you know what these shoes cost?"

He groaned. "No Ma'am, that's a kink I never understood." He ignored her glare and turned back to Maggot, who was trying to remove his own butt from the broken glass. The poor guy pushed himself off the floor, but his feet just slipped again and he landed on his face. Again. Gearhead cringed. "Will you just stay DOWN! That is the SECOND face plant I seen ya do in five minutes. You're worse'n Olympic drunk diving!"

"I think I broke it again," Maggot whimpered, clutching his offended nose with both hands.

"Ya need me to straighten it for ya again?" Gearhead asked helpfully, reaching out.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

"Cause you face plant one more time and I swear to god I will!" Gearhead snapped. "C'mere, c'mere, it'll only take a second!"

Maggot frantically tried to scramble away from the reaching hands, his feet moving in opposite directions than he had intended and accidentally doing a Bambi, falling on his face once more as his attention was focused on trying to make his feet work. Gearhead cringed again and carefully got his feet under him.

The woman with the shoes sighed and, in her South African voice, snarled "Would you two Neanderthals just STOP IT? Lie still and let someone with BRAINS come rescue us before you knock down anybody else!"

That earned her another glare as G actually managed to stand up and slide a step towards his friend. Not easy. Especially when his hands and his butt both stung from little glass splinters, and the dye. Wincing, he flicked one hand, trying to shake off some glass. Blood and dye splattered the woman, who gave an indignant shriek, and Mr. Labcoat, who groaned and backed away a little further, mumbling, "Why does this always happen to me?"

Gearoid had gotten one, step, two, when the fashionista gave another shriek and overcame the shock that had finally made her quit bitching. "THIS OUTFIT IS ESCADA! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THIS OUTFIT COSTS?"

She waved her hands and snatched off her jacket to shake it at him, and that was Gearhead's downfall. Literally. He saw the menacing flash of pink from the corner of his eye and looked up. The fashion drone shook her jacket again like a vicious towel flicker on the attack and he unwittingly flinched and that was enough to send his feet up and his butt down and into the slippery green dye again. Gearhead landed on hard floor and sharp glass and yowled like a cat in heat, and Atlantis' alarms yowled with him. Suddenly doors were sliding open and shut, foam jetting from the walls and flashing lights sequenced down the hall to guide a panicked people to flee. And at least one panicked person named Gearoid would have been happy to flee if he could just stand up, but instead he flailed in the dye and obeyed well-worn military reflex, yowling, "It's not me! It's not me!"

Beside him, Maggot whimpered and curled up on himself, spitting out blood that had trickled down his throat with a ragged cough.

The woman in pink squealed, trying to evade the dye and foam, and Labcoat Larry finally lost his nerve, screeching, "IT'S CARRIE! I DON"T HAVE ANY PIG"S BLOOD! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"THIS IS A THOUSAND DOLLAR OUTFIT YOU BABOONS!" the woman shrieked, glaring down at foam and dye.

Gearhead stared at them blankly, foam dribbling down his face. Until he heard the growl behind him and spun to look at Maggot. Who was fed up. Yep. No doubt about it. Fed up and about to let the world know as he shouted, "SHUT THE FUCK UP, EVERYBODY!" Maggot pointed one nose-blood-reddened finger at the Pink Terror and added,. "SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT YOUR FUCKING OUTFIT!"

Gearhead didn't know where to look first. His best buddy's nose was broken, again, his hands and butt had glass in 'em worsen' any party floor he'd ever woken up on. His head hurt worsen' any part too, and he was covered in foam. Buried in foam. All of them were turning into great big heaps of foam. This was not good, not good at all.

Maggot glared as the woman continued to screech about her shoes, flinging a hand in the air in disgust and managing to further spot her already green-and-red flecked appearance. She glared at her skirt, at them, and shrieked "AAAGH! YOU DID IT AGAIN! DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO GET BLOOD OUT?"

Gearhead stared at her, at the heap of vaguely-Maggot-shaped foam, at the green floor and the glass and the foam and the splattered tech and finally at his hands, which were stained with a nasty mix of fluffy foam, bilious, military-green dye and, even more unpleasant, bright red blood. Everything clashed, even he knew that..

He looked back up at Maggot and really wanted to panic when he saw the foam pile blink, black pupils swimming in a field of white. White teeth bared too. Maggot was glaring at the fashionista in a way that Gearhead knew meant duck and cover. His voice was loud and harsh, bellowing, "YOU WANT BLOOD? DON'T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE! I SWEAR TO GODS -"

"NO BLOOD! NO BLOOD!" the tech yelled, caught up in the flashing lights and banging doors. "OH MY GOD, IS THE ELEVATOR FULL OF BLOOD?"

Gearhead, clutching his head with his hands and trying to figure out what the hell was going on and how to make it NOT go on, yelled, "EVERYTHING STOP!"

Maggot, however, was on a roll, glaring at the tech and yelling above the noise, "YOU DICKHEAD! SHUT UP! LOOK AROUND YOU! DO YOU SEE AN ELEVATOR FULL OF BLOOD? NO! JUST ME AND MY FUCKING BROKEN NOSE!"

And Gearhead was starting to believe in fate and bad karma because what else could explain when another force for evil was mixed into this stew. How else to explain a strident Canadian voice chiming in at the top of its owner's lungs with, "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT -WHOOOOAAA!" It didn't surprise him at all to hear the yell trail off and a damn THUD, followed by, "DAMN IT!"

Yep. A very bad day.

Above the commotion and complete chaos, a Czech snicker could be heard.

Maggot was screaming louder than ever. "EVERYBODY JUST STAND STILL AND SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Barely heard above the havoc, the McKay's voice said very slowly and deliberately, "I am going to kill someone. Slowly. Using methods banned by the Geneva convention."

"You exaggerate," Zelenka snickered. "They bring you food, you forgive them. Maybe. They bring you chocolate, you forgive them. Definitely."

"Zelenka. Go. Now. Or you're on my hit list," McKay ground out.

Fear had not been struck into a Czech soul, to judge by the snicker. "You not kill me. You do and I hide still."

"Will you GO?" McKay snapped.

"Can somebody, _please_, get some help?" Maggot must have given up on shouting. The pitiful little whimper emerged from a growing heap of foam on the floor.

Beside him, Gearhead softly thumped his head against the wall, sighing, preparing himself for an ordeal as he tried to get up again, shifting to his hands and knees and hissing at the sharp little splinters of container glass embedding themselves in his hands.

"Owowoowowowow," he groaned as he made his way to where he remembered Maggot's voice, feeling around in the foam before he finally met soft flesh. "Hey," he prompted. "You okay? I mean, outside the nose?"

Maggot whimpered and toppled all the way over, face buried in his hands. "Nooooo."

Settling down so that Maggot's face was next to his leg, Gearhead tried to smile and said, "Look at it this way. Now you can't taste the MREs for while."

Maggot shook his head, curling up around Gearhead like he was a giant teddy bear, mindless of glass and blood and foam. Careful not to use the side of his hand splintered with glass, Gearhead gently rubbed small circles on his friend's back, grimacing at the way the wet material bunched and squished. They were all going to be green for a month, he just knew it.

"What the -" A startled voice asked from the edge of the disaster area, followed by a low whistle. "Man. I haven't seen a mess like this since the 1998 Food Fight at McMurdo."

Major John Sheppard was taking in the damage with wide, incredulous eyes. Chemical fumes still hung heavy in the air, lights were flashing, doors were still banging and slamming, and whimpering and curses were emanating from the foamy murk. One lone figure made her way clear, like Venus rising from the waves, scowling and looking fit to tear something apart. Behind her, still leaning against his cart, the tech was jibbering away about Jack Nicholson, giving anyone who would listen (no doubt including the Major) serious doubts about his mental state. The Major picked his way over to the most recent casualty of the Dye Spill. Whistled. "Hey McKay, looking a little green around the gills, there."

"I'll give you that one, but you make one greenback joke, just one!" McKay snarled to the man above him. "And I'll personally introduce you to this mess!"

Sheppard look up, around, took in the relative state of everyone there and narrowed his eyes at the lumps of foam that usually looked like a pair of privates. Gearhead, peering back out of his foamy cocoon, cherished no hopes that he hadn't been recognized. He swallowed. A jet of foam spurted weakly from the wall. Sheppard's eyes followed it, came back to him, then tracked to the other three people in the mess.

Gearhead heaved a long, doomed sigh and patted Maggot's back.

"G? I want to home. Get me out of here, I want to go!" Maggot whimpered, not bothering to look up to see the new arrivals.

Gearhead gathered what little aplomb and military bravado he could muster when covered by dye, foam and whatever else he was covered with, and glared up at the Major. "Hey, Sir! We got a medical crisis here. Can you get some help for my buddy before his nose falls off?"

"And an expert dry cleaner," the Escada Venus muttered, eyeing her clothes mournfully.

"Lady," McKay growled, his voice seeming to rise out of the foam on its own. "I tell you what. I'll BURN your damn clothes and then you won't have to worry!"

"YEAH! GO MCKAY! OH CANADA!" Gearhead whooped, giving a stadium whistle.

Beside him, Maggot suddenly surged up, looking for all the world like a green, bleeding foam monster. "FORGET ABOUT YOUR FUCKING DRY CLEANING YOU STUPID BITCH! NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR FUCKING DRY CLEANING! DO YOU WANT ME TO DO SOME REAL DAMAGE TO YOUR FUCKING OUTFIT?"

The woman let out a scream at the sight of the Bog Monster of Atlantis, turned, took one step and slipped, landing on McKay. There was a screech and a yowl from the scientist as her knee firmly planted itself in his gut. He pushed her off him, where she slipped once more, skidded out of control past Maggot and landed on Gearhead, who let out a startled yelp as one of her heals landed on his foot.

McKay, rolling around in agony and clutching at his stomach, landed right in front of Maggot's feet. Maggot, who had been trying to escape, went stumbling to the ground in another spectacular face plant.

He yowled, clutching his nose and curling up into himself, crying piteously. Gearhead, snarling at the cause of his latest attack of Three Stoogism, shoved the fashionista aside, where she promptly slipped and fell, greening herself past all hope. Her squeal made Gearhead smile as he made his way, slipping and sliding to Maggot's wretched form.

McKay, gasping and coughing under the foam, trying to get his breath back, listened as Sheppard started barking orders into the nearest intercom, demanding fans, hoses, reinforcements and a medical team, ASAP. Then the lights slowly stopped flickering and the doors quieted, finally remaining closed.

"McKay?" Sheppard asked, sliding into the foam like an dorm floor surfer maneuvering his way on a freshly waxed floor. He stopped at the nearest white lump, bending down to pull him up and trying not to laugh as McKay stood there, looking for all the world like the abominable snowman from hell.

Gearhead, seeing the successful maneuver, finally managed to get to, and stay on, his feet. He found that if he slid his feet rather than trying to pick them up could actually take a few steps.

He turned to find Sheppard squinting at them, obviously trying to see through the foamy mess. "Uhh . . .Which one are you?"

"Im the one wit'out the broken nose," Gearhead offered, windmilling for a moment before catching his balance.

"Ah," was the only reply.

Maggot, his head clutched in his hands, rocking back and forth, was muttering fervently for a button he could push to stop everything and have the world go back to being normal. Gearhead didn't think he even knew he was talking, mumbling, "Button, button, button," over and over again in time with his rocking.

Gearhead leaned down, murmuring in the kindest, softest voice anyone had ever heard from him, and which drew Maggot's head up slightly, "Hey, hey, they got some good buttons you can push in med. You wanna go to med? Make that nose feel better?"

"Button," Maggot whispered back, closing his eyes.

Sheppard, who had skidded and slipped his way to Gearhead's side, shared a look with the foam covered Private, taking in his bloody, green covered hands and overall appearance of misery.

Gearhead, wincing and cringing, gently wrapped a hand around Maggot's upper arm, while Sheppard did the same to the other, and, with a sharp hiss, pulled his friend to his feet. "Come on. We're gonna let the doc help ya, Hulk," he murmured.

A med team was waiting for them at the edge of the foam, sedatives and pain pills ready for Maggot as soon as he was laid on the gurney. Immediately the pinched look left his face and his eyes glazed over.

The med team, seeing the condition of Maggot's nose, decided it best to get him to the infirmary as quickly as possible, allowing Gearhead to walk along side the slightly whimpering form.

Sheppard, staring around him at the doors and lights and gouts of foam, narrowed his eyes, turning to look at the receding forms of the two miscreants. McKay, standing beside him and dripping miserably, sensed his train of thought, and the two of them shared a speculative look for a very long moment.

"What say we head down to med and get you looked over?" Sheppard finally asked, eyes gleaming.

"Let's," McKay agreed.

The trip to the infirmary was the longest Gearhead could remember, with Maggot miserably clutching his wrist the entire way, whimpering with every jolt. Even when the alleged still in the allegedly demolished alleged hut at their last indisputably real terrestrial posting blew - allegedly - sky high, they'd both walked away with no more than a few bruises. Real damage hadn't been the order of the day. Now, looking down at his friend and feeling slightly guilty for still being relatively in one piece, Gearhead could not help feeling somewhat responsible, almost as though he had let Maggot down.

The fact that his friend looked like a rabid chipmunk-raccoon hybrid with fungus didn't help the situation, either.

"Good heavens! Wha' happened?" Beckett demanded once the team arrived.

"Um," Gearhead managed, trying to think of a reasonable answer that wouldn't get the two of them into serious trouble. Thought given that it all started with Maggot's impromptu tongue piercing it was more like saving Maggot's ass from the sling. Gearhead thought fast. "It was a crisis, right? There was this…this…thing falling off and it was about to…yeah, fall ON someone, and Maggot saved 'em!"

For a long moment Beckett stared at Gearhead, reminding him of countless sessions with disbelieving school principals. "How many fingers, lad?" the doctor finally asked, holding up three fingers to Gearhead's confusion.

Fingers? Gearhead said the first thing that came into his mind. "Blue?"

Another uncomfortable moment of the doctor staring before he pulled out his penlight, shining it into Gearhead's eyes and muttering, "Pupils equally contracted."

Gearhead sniffed uncomfortably, trying to scratch around the glass in his palm as he said, "I think I'm allergic to that dye. It's makin' me itch."

"Hold on, hold on!" Beckett snapped, and waved over two large orderlies and a nurse. "Let's get that glass out, shall we, lad?"

Maggot, receiving the same treatment beside him, started to giggle as more sedatives were administered in preparation for fixing his nose. He started to sing in an off-key, nasally voice, "I'm Hen-ery the eighth I am!"

Gearhead watched him for a moment, thankful for the amusement factor and the fact that it kept his mind off the several pieces of glass removed from parts of his anatomy that normally no one but his date du jour ever saw. Plus, it was keeping anyone from asking how the foam had started to spurt on the dye that happened to spill from a glass vat that happened to shatter when . .. what was that? A NAIL? Happened to be shot from a nail gun that would have managed to make it's way into the situation if anyone had asked those questions, which so far they hadn't. Which was just fine with Gearhead, who really didn't care to say things like, "Well, y'know, he was trying to put a nail through his tongue."

No, Maggot could keep singing as long as those questions didn't get asked. So when it looked like Maggot was starting to wind down, Gearhead prompted him for a rendition of 'Minnie the Mermaid'. Then a rousing chorus of 'Roly Poly Tickle My Holy Up the Slimy Slue'.

By which time the nurses were all staring at him, contemplating getting Anya from her lunch break and letting HER take care of him. The men, snickering and trying not to laugh outright, were planning on seeing how many drinks they could cadge from the marines for this story.

Maggot, oblivious, sang out, "Roll out your nuts across my guts, I'm one of the whorehouse crew!" even as Beckett and lured one of the wary nurses to start work on the broken nose.

Gearhead sighed and thumped his head into his pillow, wishing he could sit up but far too respectful of a punctured posterior to give it a try. Maggot's monotonous - and off-key - singing wasn't helping his rapidly growing headache. He was bored, guilty, and miserable.

"No," he corrected himself, he'd BEEN bored, guilty and miserable. As he watched Major Sheppard and a stained and frothy Dr. McKay limp into the med bay he added nervous and apprehensive to the list.

"I thought you Canadians didn't go for greenbacks . . ." Sheppard teased, annoying Dr. McKay in sort of perfunctory way, while his sharp eyes scanned the inhabitants of the infirmary, lingering on the two hapless privates. McKay was equally distracted though he demonstrating his brilliant-geek-multitasking skills by glaring at the Major before he, too, studied the occupants. Gearhead cringed under the scrutiny.

Maggot ignored them all, whispering "Button, button, button," to himself.

"Good heavens," Beckett sighed, waving McKay to have a seat on one of the beds, knowing it was going to be a very long day.

Several hours later, several things had happened.

All the glass had been removed from several sets of butts and hands and other regions of skin which preferred not to be punctured. The resultant cuts bad been rinsed and bandaged. Maggot's nose had been set and McKay had been informed that the green dye on his back was permanent and would need weeks to wear off. That news had been followed by a brief period of yelling and fussing while he adjusted to his new, more colorful status.

Maggot had continued to mutter "Buttons, buttons" until Beckett straightened his nose. Then he graduating to shouting "BUTTONS! BUTTONS!" until they helped him to a nice dose of Seroquel and Benadryl, and he had soon lapsed into blissful, if noisy snoring.

Gearhead sprawled on his stomach and watched. His hands, backside and lips were all dyed green. Last time he'd had lips like that, the lipstick had cost him a fortune, but at least it matched the color his hair had been at the time. He doubted Major Sheppard would welcome such color coordination now. 'Course, he might be able to justify it as an attempt to help Maggot feel better. Worth a try.

Sitting across from them both, McKay was eyeing them. It was a beady-eyed stare, the kind of look Gearhead associated with his sisters when they were feeling monthly and knew there was only one chocolate bar left. Come to think of it, from what he'd heard about McKay, that might be the kind of look HE'D have if there was only one chocolate bar left too. Gearhead shuddered and was grateful to know that at least a case of chocolate was left in the stores. He'd have to be sure to hide it . . . stockpiled and rationed.

McKay's upper lip curled back a hair, then the corners curled up into a smile about as genuine as a politician's promises. "Which one are you?"

Gearhead stared back. Hello Mr. Mongoose, I'm just a poor, harmless little snake . . .He blinked. Smiled as innocently as he could. "Like I told Major Sheppard, I'm the one without the broken nose."

The upper lip definitely curled again before McKay got it back under control. "Clearasil or something like that. Right?"

"Yes sir, Sir, something like that, Sir." Gearhead kept the smile pasted on his face. It was easy, after a couple years it became second nature.

Not that it helped. "That one's Cleary," Beckett corrected. Damn it. "He goes by Gearhead. I haven't asked why."

Gearhead thumped his face into his pillow and quietly cursed Dr. Bucket. If McKay never had a name he might have forgotten . . .not a hope in hell a that now.

McKay drove the final nails into the coffin with precision and glee. "Yes, well, Gearhead. When you're released you need to come by my lab. There's some testing I think we'll need."

"Testing?" Gearhead screwed up his face and prayed desperpately that if he seemed dumb enough McKay might let him off the hook.

Shrewd, blue eyes narrowed to slits. "Yes. If I recall your original tests may have been somewhat . . . inconclusive."

"Hey, I don't say that kinda stuff about you!" Gearhead pulled his sheets up to his shoulders. "You keep your conclusives to yerself. You got officers to pester, anyway."

"I got . . .HAVE a perfect right to . . .pester," hissed McKay, "anyone who might improve this city's chances of survival."

"Me?"

"Maybe." McKay looked smug. Not that he often looked any other way.

Gearhead sighed. Gave him a pitying smile. "You have been zapped by one too many nutcase ray, ya don't mind me saying so."

The smug look changed to favorite expression number two: annoyed. "There were four people in the hall, one of whom manifested ATA abilities. I'm prepared to rule out the South African. If she'd had the ATA gene she'd have no doubt found magic Ancient shoe protectors. Even if it IS her, she's too irritating for me to allow myself to believe it. I also refuse to believe it's that other fool, that idiot with the horror movie fixation. Which leaves me you and your lemur-faced friend there. And I remember you. You squirmed so much the chair extruded restraints."

"So it's me cause your chair is kinky?"

McKay smirked. "It's as good a basis for suspicion as any."

G sighed and buried his face in his pillow. "Why me? Don't answer that."

"I wasn't planning to." McKay, thankfully, turned his attention to irking other people. "Carson! When can I get out of here? I'd like to leave before you get out the leeches."

Gearhead listened idly as Beckett insulted the scientist back, yawning. When Eggheads Attack! was never gonna beat Survivor in the ratings, that was sure. He was relieved when Beckett finally appeased the Canadian with a promise of release in a few hours. McKay glared at Beckett but settled (resentfully) back and shut up as Beckett headed off to check his other patients. Gearoid yawned again, but a notion had been gnawing him and he grabbed Beckett's arm with a bandaged hand when the doctor came around to check on his patients.

"'ey, Doc," Gearhead mustered his best smile and his best intentions. "Ya know, there is one thing you could do while Maggot's asleep here like this. I know he really wants his tongue repierced. Could you punch a hole in 'im while he's out?"

Beckett rolled his eyes and gently patted Gearhead's hand. "No way in hell, lad. Now leave off or I'll tell you all the possible complications a that."

"'sides talking funny and making the girls happy?" Gearhead ramped it up just a little.

The doctor appeared unimpressed. "Infection, necrosis, endocarditis. No way in hell."

"But…" he tried again, casting the man a pleading glance.

He was stopped by the glare on Beckett's face. "Tell him it's unsanitary and that if he wants that done…." The doctor stumbled to a halt, his eyes widening, then narrowing, then rolling with a long suffering sigh. "Is that how this whole fiasco started?" he groaned, eyeing the slightly stirring Maggot.

"Did you know you have fur on your teeth?" Gearhead finally asked, unable to think of a single coherent deflection and reduced to the incoherent ones.

"Fur?" Beckett reached into his pocket for his flashlight and held up three fingers. "How many fingers now?"

Oooh, not promising. Fortunately, a distraction presented itself when Major Sheppard returned. Gearhead took his opportunity and sat up quickly, saluting and silently thanking his stars for at least one officer who had good timing.

Of course, a second later it was all moot. One good distraction wasted, because Maggot suddenly sat up, catching everyones attention.

"Maggs?" Gearhead asked, slightly worried about the expression on his friend's swollen, racoonish face.

"Where did they go?" Maggot mumbled, looking about himself with dazed, unfocused eyes.

"Where did who go, lad?" Beckett asked kindly, moving over to check Maggot's vitals and determine if he needed another dose of happy drugs.

"Them!" Maggot smiled, pointing. Gearhead looked up and yelped. Least he hoped it was a yelp and not a girly scream like the one that Nurse Anya, the weightlifter, let loose when some kind of little, furless, really truly ugly thing fell out of the vent to hang there, squeaking and swinging from some highly impressive claws.

"Crap!" Gearhead scrambled back as the thing fell on his bed and bared its teeth in a hiss. From what he could see the teeth were bigger than the entire rest of the animal. It wasn't something he wanted to investigate further.

"What the HELL?" Sheppard and McKay shouted as another one fell on McKay. He squealed, threw blankets and sheets every which way and hit the floor within what had to be less than two seconds. But he and Sheppard jumped as another little toothy animal ran across their toes, hissing. The scientist and the officer both launched themselves for the nearest critter-free structure that would support them, ending up on a table as several more hairless creatures began to appear.

Sheppard had his gun and was tracking the like the hero in a first person shooter game, deciding which animal to shoot first, as McKay peered nervously over the side of the table, studying the infestation.

"Don't shoot! There's oxygen in here." Beckett snapped, backing up quickly as one of the creatures made its slow way towards Maggot's bed.

He stopped when he saw that his patient made no move to flee, but rather was eyeing the horrible little thing with interest.

Gearhead, scrambling to get out of the way, tried to squeeze onto the table next to McKay but was quickly dislodged by Sheppard, who was twitching slightly and muttering about ticks and evil vermin. Several more of the Teeth from the Deep fell out of the vents and that was all she wrote, officer or no, Sheppard was gonna make room and Gearhead WAS gonna get on that table, if he had to shove McKay off to do it. McKay was tougher than he looked, but he was going down. Gearhead shoved and scientist tried to climb Sheppard's back, cursing as the Major tried to club a critter with the butt of his weapon. It didn't make for a good retreat and Gearhead was disgusted to find himself on the ground again, at eye height with another rat-thing. It wasn't any happier than he was and bared big, yellowish teeth at him. It had fish breath.

Maggot, doped, and dozy and, if you asked Gearhead at the moment, probably not that sane, was dreamily trying to climb out of bed, cooing at the critters. Beckett kept shoving him back and swatting at them with the chart from the foot of the bed. Gearhead figured he was both braver and dumber than he looked when he put himself between his patient and the encroaching hoard of Willard-wannabes.

Lights started to flicker, and a low buzzing alarm filled the air. The door to Beckett's office began to open and close, building up speed as Gearhead watched more critters fall into the room.

"Not the FOAM, NOT THE FOAM!" McKay shouted, trying desperately to think the chaos to a stop as little spurts began to ooze out of the walls in counterpart to the furless monsters. "DO SOMETHING!" he shouted to Sheppard, poking the man in the back.

"I'm TRYING!" the major shouted back.

A gentle touch on his shoulder had Beckett yelping and back-peddling, watching in wide eyed amazement as Maggot staggered slowly over to the nearest creature. He didn't so much sit down as fall down like a toddler, then reached out to pick up the beast.

The room suddenly became silent as Sheppard managed to gain control of the alarms, and all of them wound up staring as Maggot gently stroked the hairless back of the softly crooning monster.

"Isn't she cute, Gee?" he mumbled, looking up through dazed eyes to his friend, who had found refuge on a desk chair, knees tucked firmly underneath him.

"Maggot, put the creepy monster down," Gee pleaded, squeaking as something brushed the chair leg. "Please!"

"But-" Maggot began, looking up with a slightly confused expression.

Gee groaned as his friend's eyes crossed, and he watched in horror as Maggot fell over, completely limp, the creature falling from nerveless fingers with a startled squeak.

For one long moment there was absolute silence as all watched, waiting for the monster to start nibbling on the defenseless private.

And then the creatures started to drift away, vanishing in a matter of moments, with only the one left sniffing tentatively at Maggot's fingers before offering a final lick and then disappearing as well.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Beckett demanded. He beckoned two nurses over and they scooped Maggot up and deposited him once more on the bed.

"Dr. Doolittle? On drugs?" Gee offered, and slowly shrank back into his chair as the great heroes McKay and Sheppard glared at him, climbing down from the table with as much dignity as they could manage.

All around them furniture was overturned, objects that normally lived on desk tops and table tops were strewn across the floor, and a random puff of fur blew idly into a corner where it stuck to the remnants of the fire retardant foam that had dribbled down the walls. Sheppard turned in a circle, staring at the mess. He knew a train wreck when he saw one and, as a commanding officer and veteran of more than a few fuck ups of his own, he knew just what to do. He came full circle, and gave Beckett a bright, shiny smile. "So. We had a Carrie wannabe, and now we've got Dr. Doolittle. Call me if you need me doc!" And he fled.


End file.
